


All About Faith

by Peanutbuttertoast



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Fast & Furious (Movies), Gossip Girl (TV 2007)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 97
Words: 392,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutbuttertoast/pseuds/Peanutbuttertoast
Summary: A New Evil takes root in Gotham City.  Batman discovers that vampires are real, and seeks out help from an old family friend of Alfred’s—Rupert Giles.  The Slayers descend on Gotham, and Bruce is introduced to Faith Lehane...and is instantly intrigued by her.  However, discovering the horrors of Faith’s past, leads to an earth-shattering revelation.
Relationships: Bart Bass/Rona Steward (BtVs), Blair Waldorf/Chuck Bass, Buffy Summers/John Daggett, Faith Lehane/Bruce Wayne, Rachel Dawes/Harvey Dent
Comments: 36
Kudos: 11





	1. The Wacky

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to their respective creators, and not me!

Patrolling through the streets of Gotham City on a night like this, always made Batman feel on edge, as if he were waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop. He’d been out here every night this past week, patrolling the streets and looking for **something**...

A little over a week ago, he’d been summoned by Lt. Gordon, who had bat signaled him first—and then led him to a crime scene near the docks—not too far from where the newly (albeit temporary) constructed Batcave was located in the Wayne Dockyard. 

The scene was unlike anything Batman had _ever_ seen, even in his time with the League and Ducard...

...or Ra’s. 

Batman still held a twinge of regret over the death of his old mentor, but not so much that he dwelled on it for too long. The man had burnt down his ancestral home, and it would be at least another year before it was rebuilt back to what it had once been. 

Rachel had walked away from him after she’d discovered his dual identity, and it still hurt everyday. He’d wanted her to stand with him...stand _beside_ him...but it wasn’t something she was willing, or capable of doing. 

So that left him alone— _again_ , to deal with the darkness that was his life. 

Gordon however, had asked for his help, as there had been a string of unexplained murders recently in Gotham, which the press hadn’t yet, become privy to. And it was a good thing too, because whomever was doing the killing was draining their victims _dry_. 

_Of their blood._

It had been enough to make a lesser man revolt and run away in terror. 

Thankfully, though...Batman was _not_ a lesser man. 

He’d put both Lucius and Alfred on the case, and had asked them to research anything, anywhere...that might have a similar MO, but to date they hadn’t found much of anything. 

Hence why he was out patrolling again for the seventh night in a row. The only thing that Lucius had discovered, was that the killings seemed to be taking place within a ten block radius around the local Gotham cemetery, which Batman had thought odd. 

And it was why, he was currently patrolling the east side of Gotham’s oldest cemetery. 

As he came along an abandoned warehouse, he heard something that sounded like a scuffle happening inside. Checking the perimeter, and not seeing anyone—Batman glanced up and noted that there was no access point from above, at least not one that wouldn’t give away his position. Moving around the back of the building, he then noticed an open door, which looked as if it had been kicked in. 

Gliding through the opening, Batman turned on his night vision and moved into the first room of the warehouse, which was a smaller room that had a broken doorway that lead into the main part of the abandoned building. 

When he’d heard the sound again, he moved to the left along the outer wall and noted there was a set of stairs that led to a sub basement. Eyeing it cautiously, he crouched down to see if he could see anyone below, but there were several retaining posts that were obscuring his ability to get a clear view of what lay beneath. 

Using his grappling hook, he silently swung down to the lower level where he heard several grunts and a muffled groan. 

As he rounded one of the largest columns, he came up short. 

There was an older man, shoved up against the pillar with another person attached to his neck...

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think they were involved in some kind of tryst, but the limped form of the first man belied that assumption. 

He looked nearly dead. 

As he was about to move into action, he was brought up in shock when he suddenly noticed there were several more couples engaged in exactly the same position. Counting silently, he noted six in all. When the one closest to him lifted his head, as if he’d sensed Batman’s presence, the caped crusader nearly gasped out in horror. Because it wasn’t a man he was seeing. The mottled forehead and glowing eyes let Batman know what he was seeing was something not altogether human. 

When those same eyes turned to him and snarled, only then did he flinch...

...at the sight of elongated fangs and two swollen puncture marks on the victims neck...

... **vampires**!

“What the _fuck_!” He growled out lowly, suddenly alerting all who were there to his presence. 

Unfortunately, it has been a tactical mistake and as he was besieged by six vampires...he used all the weapons at his disposal to fend off his attackers, and did finally manage to make it back to the upper level and out of the warehouse, before he was surrounded again. 

“Well, look what we have here _gents_? Looks like we’ve caught ourselves a bat!”

The biggest of the six vampires was speaking, while the other five chuckled heartily. Batman was fairly banged up, and breathing heavily as he eyed the six vampires warily, looking for a way out of his predicament. 

“I think the boss will be happy when we tell him we’ve killed the Batman!” The vampire next to the obvious leader grinned, and spoke in glee.

“Well, that may be true,” the first one piped in, “but we could also bring him as a gift? Might even get a fat reward.”

Another round of laughter gave Batman a feeling that there was something he was missing, but he was too on edge at the moment to pay attention. 

When he got out of this fuckery, he’d dwell on it then. 

“Who are you?” He growled out in his deep voice, and the first vamp tilted his head at him and then smiled evilly. 

“I’d thought that was obvious.” 

“Vampires.” His voice deepened and the first vampire clapped mockingly. 

“Got it in one.”

“Maybe we could drain him a bit before we take him to the boss?” Another vampire asked, and the second vamp hissed in warning. 

“Don’t you boys know it’s not nice to play with your food before you eat it?” A decidedly feminine voice spoke up, causing all heads to whip towards her voice, and Batman’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief. 

For standing under a street light, was a diminutive blonde woman, who looked to be around twenty five, wearing leather pants, jacket, boots and who was even now—casually leaning up against the pole watching them all with wry amusement. 

The first vampire’s eyes narrowed, but the woman chuckled and then said sarcastically, “Oh, come on and rush me. It’ll be funny.”

The first vampire snapped his fingers and two of the vamps did just that, rushing towards the woman. Batman didn’t even have time to react when the woman pulled a pointed stick from her jacket and dusted the first vamp in a blink of an eye. The second vamp punched her, but it barely fazed her as she punched the vamp back and then high-kicked him, knocking him back against a dumpster. 

In his moment of disorientation, the woman staked the second vamp...turning him to dust. 

The vampire leader then took a stunned step back from the woman, growling out menacingly, “ ** _Slayer_**.”

“Awww, you’ve heard of me?” She clutched her hand over her heart. “I’m touched.”

In a flash two more of the vamps went after her, and Batman took that opening to engage the other two. He didn’t get too far, before he heard the telltale sounds of dusting. The first vamp and the leader, had him by the throat and was forcibly thrown off him. 

He gasped when the second vamp was turned to ash in the next second.

His eyes blinked stunned, as the blonde woman grinned up at him. 

“You okay?”

Batman shook his head, and then noticed the vamp leader standing up and making a beeline out of there. 

“He’s getting away..” Batman wheezed and the woman huffed, twirled the pointy stick effortlessly and without even looking in the vamps direction, flung it with deadly precision about 50 feet, staking the last vampire through the heart and turning it to dust. 

“No, he’s _not_ ,” she quipped as she eyed him carefully and then smirked at his outfit, “Nice costume.” She tapped her finger on his chest and hummed thoughtfully, “Kevlar. Pricey.” 

Batman watched dazed when she turned around and walked over to where her stick was sitting on the ground. She kicked it up and caught it with ease before glancing back over her shoulder with a wink. “Stay out of trouble, Mr. Bat.”

She started to walk away, but Batman heard his voice calling out, “Wait!” before he could stop himself. When she turned back around towards him, he stalked over and demanded, “Who are you?”

“What? No thank you? How _rude_! Didn’t your mother teach you proper manners?”

He glared at the blonde, but her lips quirked up at him as she returned his stare completely unafraid. 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“And you didn’t say, _thank you._ Sucks to be you.”

When she made to leave again, he gripped her arm which in hindsight, wasn’t his smartest move...as he found himself pressed to the ground with the blonde warrior glaring down at him in anger. 

“Don’t touch things that don’t belong to you, Batboy. You might find yourself out of commission faster that you can say “ _wacky_.”

“Wacky?” He gaped up in confusion. 

Just who was this person?

“Wack-a-mole? Fun game where you smack down...” at Batman’s deepening look, the woman huffed again and then said irritably, “Never mind.” 

She took a step back and considered him as he stood up carefully. His body felt fairly beaten up, but he didn’t think anything was broken, which was good. 

“Thank you.” He offered finally. “What’s a Slayer?”

The woman giggled and shook her head. “Long story, and really not up for the chit chat tonight. Besides, you look like you need to get back to your bat lair...cave? Whatever.” She waved her hand and started walking down the alley, clearly not concerned that she might run into more vampires or other bad guys roaming around this time of night. 

He made to follow her, but when he turned the corner of the alley into the main dock yards...the woman was gone. 

Doing a full 360, he couldn’t see her anywhere!

Where had she gone!?

He ran towards his tumbler, checking to the right and left with no luck. When he got inside, he did an immediate scan of the surrounding area. 

Nothing pinged back. 

Shaking his head, he started the engine and made his way back towards the Wayne Docks, pulling into the large underground bunker with a heavy sigh. 

The one thing that kept playing on repeat in his mind, other than the woman—who was a Slayer of some kind...was the fact that the vampires had mentioned a ‘ _boss_ ’ and that left him wondering just whom he was dealing with. 


	2. Stirred, not Shaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce meets Rupert Giles and learns a bit more about the supernatural world.

The next day had been an eye-opener in more ways that one for Gotham’s Prince. When Alfred had shown up to the docks the morning after his encounter with the vampires and the woman who was called a Slayer...his butler had been shocked to see his charge littered with bruises all over his body. 

“Master Wayne,” Alfred sighed in exasperation, “did you get run over by a truck?”

“No, Alfred! I got run over by a pack of vampires.”

His childhood guardian blanched in surprise. 

“Are you _sure?”_

He immediately turned to face Alfred, lifting an eyebrow in disbelief. “I’m fairly certain, Alfred—that your question would _not_ be the likely one to expect when confronted with such a supposition.”

The older man sighed even more deeply, but he didn’t immediately reply, putting on a pair of glasses to help his employer. Grabbing some first aid supplies, Alfred made show of cleaning up Master Wayne’s back, while the uncomfortable silence stretched for a few more moments. 

Finally after gathering his wits, Alfred spoke.

“As you know, Master Wayne—prior to coming to work for your family, I spent some time serving in the British military. My brother, however—was also military, but he worked for the SAS. His wife worked for another covert branch of the government.”

“Which was?”

“The IWC.”

“Never heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t have. By rights, I shouldn’t have known about it either but Tessie, that was my brother’s wife, she was killed during a mission. He got drunk afterwards and told me...well...” Alfred shook his head sadly, and Bruce couldn’t help but be intrigued. 

“What happened?”

“The IWC, stands for the International Watcher’s Council. It’s an organization dedicated to protecting humanity from the forces of evil: Monsters, demons, vampires. When Colin shared what had happened and how Tessie had died, I thought he was rambling on. Never gave it much thought until some years later when I was in Burma. Some of the local legends speak of monsters, demons...and while I never saw any confirmation of such—the coincidence, couldn’t be ignored.”

“What happened to your brother?”

“He died some years later. Tessie’s sister had a son, and I do keep in contact with him from time to time, and as far as I’m aware—he lives in London now.”

“What’s his name?”

“Rupert Giles.”

“Do you think he would know anything?”

“I don’t know, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. To be honest, it didn’t even register with me until now that the issues here in Gotham, might somehow, be related. Tessie’s sister, Abby—is no longer alive to my knowledge, but perhaps she shared some vital information before she died.”

Thinking back on the night before, he inquired lowly, “Did you ever hear of the term, ‘ _Slayer’ being_ used in any context?”

Alfred paled and nodded.

“In Burma.”

“And what did you hear?”

“Local legends says that a Slayer is called to fight the forces of evil. A Chosen One.” Alfred tilted his head down, finishing patching up his charge and when he was done, he put the supplies away. 

“Why do you ask about the Slayer, Master Wayne?”

“Because I think I met her last night, Alfred. She took out six vampires in a matter of minutes, while I could barely hold my own against them.”

“Did you get a name?”

“No. She didn’t seem in a talkative mood.”

“And I’m sure you weren’t anything but the upmost politeness, correct?”

He simply glowered, but didn’t reply and Alfred shook his head in admonishment, taking off his glasses to clean them. “I will see if I can get in touch with Rupert, and perhaps I’ll have some information for you by the end of the day.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course, Master Wayne.” 

It was later in the evening, after Bruce had returned to the Penthouse from spending the day at Wayne Enterprises, that he was met with another surprise. 

When he walked into his living room, Alfred was talking with another man who appeared tall, slender and was wearing glasses. 

He also had a British accent. 

“Alfred?”

“Ah, Master Wayne,” Alfred stood up immediately and made his way over, while the other man stood too, waiting to be addressed, “this is Rupert Giles.” 

“That was fast.” He muttered, and then walked over to the other man with his arm out in welcome. “Bruce Wayne.”

“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Wayne. Alfred has told me a bit about you over the years.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing too personal, mind you.” The other man clarified, and he nodded—gesturing for the man to sit back down. 

“Do you live here in Gotham?”

“No,” Giles admitted, “I’ve been in Cleveland for a bit and London before that. I’ve only been in Gotham for a week.”

“I’m sure you’re a busy man, Mr. Giles...”

“Please call me Rupert.”

Bruce nodded. “Rupert. I don’t know if Alfred has shared with you what happened last night down by the docks?”

“He did.”

“He’d also mentioned you might have some idea about vampires?”

“I do. But you must understand, Mr. Wayne...”

“Bruce...”

“Of course, Bruce. You must understand that what I’m about to share is highly confidential. This is information that is not usually shared outside of certain circles.”

“I appreciate that. But if there is some evil force in Gotham, I need to know.”

“And why is that?”

He sat back and considered the man before him. A side-glance to Alfred confirmed his own suspicions that his butler had not shared his alternate identity. 

Perhaps he could utilize that to his advantage. 

“Perhaps we might agree to a fair trade of information?”

“Such as?”

“You explain to me what a Slayer is, and whom it was I met last night, plus any pertinent information you might have on why the vampires last night were discussing taking me to see their _boss_ , and in return? I would be willing to offer Wayne Enterprises help with the IWC.”

Rupert Giles was silent for about the space of a minute before he decided to speak.

“The International Watchers Council, is tasked to protect the world from supernatural forces and Watchers historically, have trained Slayers for just that task. The woman you met last night, is Buffy Summers. She is the original Slayer, the Chosen One. Are you familiar with the destruction of Sunnydale?”

“In California? The town that was destroyed by that massive earthquake that opened up a sink hole, and swallowed the entire town?”

“Yes.”

“Not much other that what the news reported.”

“Sunnydale was _not_ destroyed by an earthquake. It was destroyed due to the existence of what is known as a Hell Mouth. A convergence of sorts, where evil resides.”

Bruce sat back stunned, and based on Alfred’s expression, he was flummoxed too.

“Are there other Hell Mouths?”

“Yes. The closest one is in Cleveland.”

“Hence, why you were there?”

“Yes.”

“You’d mentioned Miss Summers is the original Slayer, does that mean there are others?”

“That is a long story, but yes...there are others. Suffice to say, before the battle that took place that led to the destruction of Sunnydale, there were only two Slayers in existence...now? There are many.”

“Oh?” He leant forward as he considered this. “And who is the _other_ Slayer?”

“Her name is Faith Lehane, and she lives in Cleveland at present.”

“And Miss Summers?”

“Resides in London...usually.”

“I see.” He pondered what the man had shared with him, and then clapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “What can I do to help your organization?”

“Buffy mentioned that she ran into a man dressed up like a bat last night.” Giles stared up at the billionaire with a smirk. “I take it that was you?”

His gaze narrowed, but he bowed his head in acquiescence.

“Then I suggest _if_ you’re going to be out fighting in the streets of Gotham, you might want to brush up on your fighting skills. Vampires are much more difficult to deal with than the run of the mill thugs you’re used to dealing with, and we can offer some help if you’re interested.”

Bristling slightly, he felt his expression harden.

“I was _unprepared_. I won’t be next time.” He paused when Alfred cleared his throat in admonishment. “But perhaps help might not go remiss.”

Giles nodded, but didn’t reply, as he was unsure how to respond. 

“Is Miss Summers staying in Gotham for a while?” Alfred asked curiously, and Giles gestured in the affirmative. 

“She is. We’ve received intel there is a new evil taking root here in Gotham City. We haven’t yet been able to determine just whom this individual is, but it seems as if you might’ve inadvertently given us a lead, Bruce.”

“Is this individual a vampire, demon or some other monster?” He asked warily and Giles shrugged. 

“We aren’t sure of the origins. We know whomever it is, isn’t quite human—but beyond that we don’t know much. We have sent the call out for additional resources.”

“How many?”

“At last count we’ve received word from ten of our Slayers. Actually, it’s all the ones remaining from the Sunnydale battle. They are the best trained and have seen the most combat time.”

“Are they all here yet?” Alfred inquired curiously. 

“Two were relatively close in proximity to Gotham. One was in New York, the other in Boston. Faith will be here sometime late tomorrow or the next day. She hates to fly, and will be riding her motorcycle in from Cleveland.”

His eyebrows lifted at that, as he too—was a fan of motorcycles and preferred them to cars and planes. 

“What can you tell me about Faith Lehane?” He inquired with interest.

Giles face morphed into an expression he wasn’t familiar with. 

If he had to guess, he’d say it was _pained indulgence._

“I think I’ll let you see for yourself. Buffy is much different than Faith. However, if you’re looking for someone to train you in fighting vampires and other supernatural monsters, I’m sorry to say that Faith would definitely _not be willing.”_

“Why?”

“She prefers fighting alone. She has done some training of other Slayers and did so in Sunnydale for a time, and Cleveland too, but she’s too brutally efficient and not altogether patient.”

He smirked. “She sounds like a handful.”

“She was and still is, to an extent. She’s somewhat of a wild child. She was orphaned at nine and called at sixteen. Her first Watcher was killed in front of her at sixteen, and her second Watcher used her desperate need for a parental figure against her before she too, was killed in front of her. She’s made some bad choices as a result, and went rogue for a few years beginning when she was just seventeen.”

“Why?”

“That’s complicated, Bruce—and not my story to share. Needless to say, Faith doesn’t trust easily, if at all. She and Buffy have learned to co-exist, but it’s still a work in progress. She holds a lot of anger inside her.”

“Is she dangerous?” Alfred queried in worry. 

“Only to vampires, monsters and demons. She channels her rage into fighting and she’s damn good at it too. In some ways better than Buffy, but only due to her unpredictability.”

“And Miss Summers?”

“She’s a natural leader, tough but fair. She would be more willing to train you, but would likely defer that task to someone else.”

“I see.” He replied evenly, but in truth he wasn’t sure what to think about all this new information. Apparently there were two original Slayers, who didn’t exactly get along. If he read between the lines, he was fairly certain that Faith Lehane’s reasons for not trusting those around her had to do with more than just her issues with Buffy Summers. He could also understand being an orphan, as well as the rage that drove him to take on a masked vigilante persona. He had to wonder just how much more damaged Faith Lehane was than himself.

“Do you have a place to stay locally?” He asked at last, and Giles nodded. 

“We have set up a base near Robinson Park on the other side of the river. Just southeast of Gotham Hospital.”

“In the Gotham Terrace area?”

“Yes.”

“I know the area well. If you need anything, please be sure to let me know.”

“I will.” Giles held out his hand, which he took and shook firmly. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Thank you, Rupert—for coming so quickly.” Alfred patted the younger man on the shoulder. 

“It’s not a problem.”

Alfred escorted their guest to the elevator, and when he returned he found his charge standing up near the far window, staring out into the night.

“Master Wayne, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Alfred. Just processing.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in.”

He turned around and walked over towards his liquor cart and poured himself a glass of 1972 Dalmore Constellation scotch. Swirling it in the tumbler with purpose—he watched the golden, amber liquid with a feeling of trepidation. 

Alfred, who was watching him closely, didn’t speak up at all—he just had a contemplative look on his face. 

Taking a fortifying sip, he hummed pleasantly at the rich flavors of orange, sherry and sandalwood. He didn’t drink often, but scotch was his preferred choice when he was feeling on edge—and it helped to soothe his frazzled nerves. 

Slayers...

...the thought was...

...rather _intriguing_ , if he was being completely honest. 

Listening to Rupert Giles discuss a bit of what he could imagine was a far more complex tale, left him feeling something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

 _Stirred_...

And he wasn’t sure why. 


	3. What’s His Play?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce meets the Slayers and is instantly intrigued with Faith Lehane.

It was a couple days later that Bruce found himself driving through the streets of Gotham, as he made his way across the river towards Robinson Park. Rupert Giles had contacted him that very morning, and said he had some information to discuss. He had offered to meet the man at his apartment, and was heading there now.

He had on his newest Armani suit, and was driving his Lamborghini through the tunnel and out into the underground expressway that connected to Gotham Hospital—which was about three miles northwest from his current location. As he stopped at a red light, he grimaced when he heard the tell-tale screams of children coming from his right. 

A minivan, with what looked to be at least six kids inside, was turning right onto the expressway, heading in his same direction. When it got about two hundred yards from the intersection, a window rolled down and what appeared to be a stuffed animal of some kind, was thrown out and onto the highway. 

Shaking his head, he missed the light turning green as well as the flash of a motorcycle as it whizzed by him, going at least fifty miles per hour. 

But what happened next had him gaping like an idiot. 

Because whomever was on the bike, leant down and scooped up the toy like it was nothing, grabbed it and took off after the van. 

Grinning widely in appreciation, he floored his car and gave chase. 

When he came to the next intersection about a mile up the road, he noticed the minivan ahead, as well as the motorcycle and rider. When the van stopped at the red light, the rider pulled alongside and tapped the driver’s window. He could see the shocked look from the driver in the side rear view mirror, as whomever the rider was—handed him back the toy. He could also see the children pressing their faces against the windows, gaping at the woman...

...and it was a woman...

When the light turned green, the motorcycle revved and in a flash, the woman was taking off down the expressway, heading in the same direction he was. 

As they both turned onto Chester Avenue, he immediately noticed the rider pulling into the garage of the Gotham Terrace Apartments, and his gut was telling him that he knew _exactly_ whom this person was. 

Ignoring that thought however, was easier said than done when he parked in front of the building and saw a _stunning_ woman walking out of the garage, holding a motorcycle helmet in her left hand. She was pulling her long, wavy brunette hair from underneath the collar of her fitted leather jacket with her right hand, her leather pants hugging to her lower body like sin. 

Her gait was confident, her expression fierce...but it was her eyes that gave her away. 

They were cold and calculating. 

This was Faith Lehane. 

He was absolutely _sure_ of it. 

He quickly turned off his engine and opened his car door, but she didn’t even look his way as she walked determinedly into the building. The doorman nodded politely to her, but once she’d passed—the man’s gaze became heated and lustful, and he felt his hackles go up. 

Stepping confidently into the building, the security guard turned to him and then eyes widened in recognition. 

“Mr. Wayne, Sir. How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see, Mr. Rupert Giles.”

“Of course, Sir. I will have security call him immediately.”

Bruce nodded, and went to stand near the elevators as the guard on the phone waved him on, so he pressed the elevator button and sighed softly when the door at the farthest end dinged immediately. 

When he made his way inside the elevator, his eyes widened at the smirking face of the brunette he’d just seen...her eyes assessing him coolly. 

“What floor?”

“Seventeen.”

She quirked an amused eyebrow, but silently pressed the button and gracefully leant back against the side of the elevator—her gaze now averted. 

He didn’t know if he should introduce himself, but apparently the woman wasn’t one to stand on formalities. 

“Giles said he was expecting _someone_ ,” the brunette drawled throatily, her voice raspy and _fucking_ sexy. “But I’ll admit, you’re _not_ what I was expecting.”

He felt his lips lift. “And what _were_ you expecting?”

“Not you.”

“And why is that?”

“You don’t look like the kinda guy who’d run around town, fighting the good fight. You look more like a corporate raider who gets his rocks off by screwing the little guy over.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh, or be offended, so he decided to go for the former and chuckled deeply. 

“Bruce Wayne.”

“You make that sound like, _James Bond_. Should I know who you are?”

“You don’t?”

The elevator dinged and the woman known as Faith Lehane, literally rolled her eyes at him. 

“I don’t associate with phonies and wannabes.”

“And which one am I?”

“I’m not your shrink. But if you’re here to get your jollies off, because you’re bored with screwing people over? News flash...what we do here isn’t for trust fund babies or bored millionaires...”

“Billionaire.” He quipped easily, pointing to himself—which earned him an amused snort. 

“Even worse.”

“I’ve honestly never heard anyone say that having money was a bad thing?” He admitted, genuinely intrigued. 

“Not to your face.” She mumbled sarcastically, as he followed her down the hallway towards the door at the end. 

He was taken aback, as Faith opened said door to the apartment and gestured for him to enter before her—which he did reluctantly. 

When the door closed, he turned around but the brunette had disappeared that quickly—causing him to grin in appreciation. 

“Mr. Wayne.”

“Mr. Giles.”

“Rupert, please.”

“Then I insist you call me, Bruce.”

“If you two are _done_ playing footsie, perhaps we can get this show on the road?”

Bruce huffed out a laugh, but Giles just shook his head in feigned exasperation.

“I see you’ve met our dear, Miss Lehane?”

“In the elevator.”

“And you’re _still_ in one piece?” Giles deadpanned, leaving him wondering if he was being serious or not. When he entered the main living room, he came up short as he noticed Miss Summers surrounded by eight other women—all of various ages and ethnicities. But it was clear they were all trained in combat as they held themselves with restrained aggression. His eyes drifted to the right, where Faith Lehane was lounging on a chair, a cigarette hanging from her mouth. She took a long drag and blew out the smoke, earning a heated glare from Buffy, and amused grins from all the other women. 

“Faith...” Buffy growled lowly.

“ _Buzzkill_.” Faith bit back, her voice more fond than irritated—as she stubbed out the tobacco in the ashtray next to her. 

“You two just like to bait each other.” A tall, lanky red-head spoke up. 

“That’s because they can.” An African-American woman quipped out playfully, earning an eye roll from Buffy and a soft chuckle from Faith. 

“Perhaps,” Giles began, “we can table the veiled barbs for later, ladies?”

All the women looked appropriately chastened, except for Faith—who seemed utterly bored. 

“Bruce, you’ve met Buffy,” Giles gestured to his Slayer and then went around introducing the other women. “That is Colleen—next to her is Chao Anh, Eve, Rona, Amanda, Kennedy, Shannon and Dominique. Sitting down and looking put out, is Faith.” Everyone laughed except for Faith, who lifted a single eyebrow in response, but she seemed more bemused than annoyed. “We were expecting one more, but she hasn’t checked in yet.”

“Who?”

“Violet.” Buffy replied, shooting an uneasy look at Faith, that he didn’t miss. 

“Did something happen to her?”

“We don’t know.” Buffy replied. “She was supposed to be here yesterday, but she hasn’t checked in. She was coming from Chicago.”

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked. “If she has a cell phone, I can have my head of R&D track it.”

Buffy glanced briefly at Faith again, and the brunette eyed her back, giving nothing away. It was almost as if they were silently communicating with each other. 

Was that even _possible_?

“That might be a good idea.” Buffy said at last, going over to the table and writing down Violet’s information on a piece of paper, before she handed it to him with a nod of thanks. 

“I’ll get on this right away.” He then turned to Giles. “You’d mentioned in our phone conversation that you had some information for me?”

“Yes. We think we might have an idea who is running the vampires here in Gotham.”

“Who?”

Giles pulled out a card from his pocket and handed it to the billionaire. He took it and flipped it over, his face going dark as he stared down at the item, which he’d seen before. 

“I know this calling card. It’s a criminal the Gotham PD has dubbed the ‘ _Joker_.’ They haven’t been able to get a firm identification on him though. Are you sure this guy is some kind of supernatural bad guy?”

“It’s looking that way.” Giles admitted. “We found this in a pocket of a demon that was killed last night outside the warehouse district, near Pier 55.”

“That’s Maroni’s territory.”

“Maroni?” Buffy asked. 

“Yes. There are three main crime families here in Gotham. Sal Maroni. Took over Carmine Falcone’s territory when he was sent to Arkham. He runs the docks from Pier 42 to Pier 57 and most of Little Italy. Gambol runs the prostitution and human trafficking scene here in Gotham, and has been in a turf war with Maroni for the last year for that reason. The Chechen deals mostly in drugs, although he’s been branching out lately into extortion and money laundering.”

“Sounds like such a welcoming place you’ve got here, Mr. Wayne.” Faith sneered mockingly. “Can’t imagine how many dirty cops there must be on the city payroll, to have such a thriving crime scene going on.”

He glared at her for a moment, then sighed in resignation—as it was a very good assumption, even if it did make him feel defensive. 

“Gotham has a lot of problems, Miss Lehane. But it’s not beyond saving.”

The look Faith Lehane was giving him was difficult to put into words. 

It looked like pity, tinged with reluctant admiration. 

“If this Joker is working with the vampires, the question is—what’s he after?” She questioned briskly. 

“What do you mean, Faith?” Rona asked warily. 

“Well, Mr. Wayne here said that he’s seen this calling card before—so that means the cops have too. This Joker is likely working both sides of the street—human and supernatural. Why? What’s his play?”

Everyone pondered that and he had to admit, it was a _very good question._

“What do you think he’s after, Faith?” Giles asked with interest. 

“I don’t know,” she replied, “but this loser calls himself the Joker, why? You don’t give yourself a ridiculous name like that unless you intend to make a big splash. Maybe he’s biding his time? Maybe...” she turned her attention back to him and pointed a finger in his direction, “he’s trying to bide his time in the hopes that the three goons who run this city make the play for him? But if it was _me_?” She stood up and sauntered over towards him, with a predatory gleam in her eye, “I’d let you keep doing your _thing_. Watching from the shadows as you take down lackey after lackey, until the crooks are left with no choice but to look for their own savior. And who better, than this guy, to come swoop down and play the antihero?”

He considered the Slayer, unbelievably impressed with her logic. 

It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. 

_She_ —wasn’t what he’d been expecting... 

“So you think this Joker is going to offer to take out the Batman, in exchange for what?” Buffy asked.

“To run the city, of course. Or to watch it burn.” Faith shrugged indifferently. “With a name like the Joker, my bet is on the latter.”

She flashed a dark smirk then, and made to move past him, and as she did—he got a whiff of her perfume—which was earthy and intoxicating, just like she was—and he felt his gut clench.

“Sounds like you know the type?” He challenged quickly, before she’d left the room completely—but it was her reply that left him floored. 

“That’s what evil does, Mr. Wayne. It burns down everything in its path, until there’s nothing left. I would’ve thought you’d learned that lesson already? Or perhaps I was wrong?”

Based on the heated look he sent her way, Faith was fairly certain he’d gotten her message. 

She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of some random rich boy deciding he wanted to play dress up to assuage his guilty conscience, or whatever the fuck he was about, and she didn’t fucking appreciate being summoned like some random lackey to help the idiot out either. 

Not that she was happy in Cleveland...

...she _wasn’t_. 

Ever since she and Robin had called it quits two years prior, she’d lived like a recluse. Sworn off men, as they were nothing but fucking trouble and useless head-cases. 

Not to be trusted either. 

Robin had showed her that.

Luckily she’d had Angel, with his position as the Head of Wolfram and Hart, had expunged her record and helped her start anew. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder anymore, wondering if she’d get taken back to jail at some point. 

For that, she was grateful. 

It still didn’t make this situation bite any less, however.

She didn’t immediately notice Buffy following her into her bedroom, until her door closed. 

“You were being kind of a bitch, Faith.”

Plopping down on her bed, she scoffed. “Par for the course, right? But _seriously_ , B? Why are we here?” 

“We’re here because Giles asked us to be here. You can’t keep living like a shut in, Faith. Why do you think Giles went to Cleveland? It wasn’t for the scenery.”

“Nice. And here I thought you cared?”

“I do, you bitch. I just wish you would at least try and play nice.”

“Not my style, you know this.” She held her hand up to waylay Buffy from saying anything more. “I did find out though, that there is a club this Sal Maroni likes to hang at. I was thinking of heading there tonight, wanna come with? I’m thinking if this Joker is looking to play with the humans, he might be looking for an ally.”

“You’re thinking Maroni?”

“Sure. Makes the most sense, right?”

“You seriously want to go and check this out?”

“Why not? Blend in, maybe pick up some juicy info while we’re there. We haven’t gone out in a really long time.”

Buffy hummed. “Sounds like a plan. You think you can behave and stay out of trouble?”

“Five by five. I can play nice if I have to.”

“Even with Wayne?”

“I don’t _get_ him. Why is a billionaire out there running around in a Batsuit?”

“Dunno, but I’m pretty sure it’s a really good story.”

“So is Alice in Wonderland, but I’m not all cracked out on drugs, nor do I feel like running down a rabbit hole to help some rich jerk get his rocks off.”

“Nice analogy.”

“Thanks.” She smirked. “Besides, you’d make a cute Alice.”

“And who does that make you? The Mad Hatter?”

“Nah, I was always kinda partial to the Cheshire Cat.”

“You’re not _that_ demented, but the stripes I could definitely see.”

“Bitch. And it wasn’t stripes, it was a god-awful orange jumpsuit.”

Buffy grimaced. “Soooo, not your color.”

“Definitely not, B.”

“So, tonight?” Buffy clarified, before her face became thoughtful. “We should tell Giles what you’ve found out. Maybe we can get some info from Wayne.”

“You go ahead. I’m done playing host and I need a nap.”

“Get some rest, Faith. I’ll come and wake you in a few hours.”

Buffy left the room and headed back into the main area, where Giles was showing Bruce Wayne some additional information Willow had gathered. 

“Where’s Faith?” Giles asked. 

“Taking a nap. After killing that demon’s nest last night, she could use it.”

The other Slayers were chuckling amongst themselves. 

“Demon’s nest?” Bruce asked warily. 

“Yeah, Faith went out last night to get the lay of the land, so to speak. She ended up near the bridge that connects to Arkham Island when she found a nest of vamps and demons. Fifteen, I think she’d said? Anyway, she killed them all and when she was checking the demons, she found that card you’re holding.”

He simply didn’t know what to say. 

Faith Lehane had gone out on her own and killed that many supernatural creatures without batting an eye? 

Just how formidable was she?

“She did manage to find out where this Maroni guy likes to hang out too. We are going to head there tonight and do some recon.”

“Oswald’s Club?” He asked, and Buffy shrugged. 

“She didn’t mention the name, but is that where he usually hangs out?”

“Yes. It’s in Little Italy, just off Broadway.”

“Any chance you might be able to get us some intel?”

“What do you need?”

“Anything you have on Maroni. If the Joker is truly playing both sides, he’d likely need an in somewhere. Maroni might be the way.”

“That’s a good assumption.”

“Faith thought so, she seems to think that’s where this Joker might try to make inroads into the local crime scene.”

Again he didn’t reply, but he had to admit it was another great idea. 

It also left him feeling more intrigued.

“I’ll get on it as soon as I return to Wayne Tower.” He turned to Giles, who handed him the folder of additional information. “Thank you for your help.” He then turned back towards the women and smiled, which caused them all of them to literally swoon...

This was more of the reaction he’d been expecting, and even Buffy seemed somewhat affected by his charm. 

It was clear however, that Faith Lehane wasn’t. 

He didn’t know why that bothered him, but he was smart enough to register that it _did_. 

“And thank you all for coming here to Gotham on such short notice.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Wayne.” The slayer known as Rona said with a small grin, while the other women nodded eagerly. 

“I’ll try and see what I can find, Miss Summers. What time will you both be heading out this evening?”

“Probably not until late. Closer to midnight.”

“I should have something by then.”

Buffy nodded, and thanked him as Giles escorted him to the door. 

Once back in his car, he called Lucius to get him working on the intel he’d need—but his mind was distracted with thoughts of long brunette hair and dark brown eyes. 


	4. Living Dead Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Buffy head to Oswald’s club.

Later that evening as they made their way to Oswald’s, Faith had to admit that Wayne had actually come through. He’d gotten Giles as much info on Maroni’s operation as the Batman had acquired over the past two years. Names of suppliers, contacts and possible cops that were on Maroni’s payroll. It was clear that Bruce Wayne was keen on trying to clean up Gotham, but one man working alone against an entire crime syndicate was just fucking suicidal. 

It was just dumb luck that the idiot hadn’t managed to get himself killed before now. 

Buffy had snickered at her as they’d left the apartment, teasing about her obvious distrust of the Billionaire. She’d reminded Buffy, that working with civilians never ended up well. Xander was testament to that, as he’d never fully recovered from the beating that Caleb had inflicted upon him, nor the death of Anya.

When they got to the club, they emerged out of their taxi—paid the driver and headed for the entrance—which had at least fifty people waiting in line. Faith smirked and gestured for Buffy to follow her to the front of the line—ignoring the protests from those who were either too stupid or too unimportant to get a direct in. 

The large bouncer instantly noticed her walking in his direction, and his eyes widened in appreciation. She had on a short satin miniskirt that fell to her mid thigh, satin boots that sat just below the hem of the skirt—showing just enough skin to be enticing. Her fitted bustier had her cleavage nearly spilling from it, and her hair was wild—flowing freely down her back in long lustrous waves. 

Buffy however, was wearing tight red leather pants, a black halter top with her hair pulled back. 

When she reached the bouncer, she whispered something into the man’s ear, causing him to grin and open the railing—waving them through. 

“Do I want to know what you said to him, Faith?”

“Not really.” 

“Why do I think you knew the guy?”

She smirked, but didn’t answer as she led Buffy through the throngs of people, until they reached the upper staircase that led down to the dance floor. 

The place was _jumping_. 

Buffy glanced around, immediately taking notice of Maroni, sitting across the room at a private table which was surrounded by several lackeys. 

“Bad guy, one o’clock.” Buffy murmured, knowing Faith could hear her even with all the hubbub going on. 

“We should dance.” 

Faith grinned as _Rod Zombie’s Living Dead Girl Remix_ started to play—grabbing Buffy’s hand and leading her down to the dance floor—fully aware that several sets of eyes were glued to them both. 

As the song’s beat started in full, Faith moved to the center of the dance floor and lifted her arms as the music took her away. She could feel Buffy next to her, doing the same and soon there were at least a dozen men crowding around the two of them—trying to get their attention. 

It had only taken three songs before they felt someone tapping their arms. Looking over her shoulder at the large goon, Faith cocked her head questioningly. 

“Mr. Maroni would like to meet you both.”

She glanced over at Buffy, who seemed amused. “Who’s that?” Buffy asked sweetly. “We don’t know the guy.”

The bouncer seemed surprised. “You’re not from Gotham, I take it.”

“Nope. Cleveland.” Faith clarified. 

“Mr. Maroni owns this club.” The large man reported, and she shrugged, completely unimpressed. 

“We came for the _dancing_ , friend. Tell your boss, we’re not interested.”

Buffy nodded in turn and both of them went back to enjoying their dancing. 

As the goon walked away, Buffy discreetly glanced up and noted when Maroni was told of their refusal, because his eyes widened and then his lips quirked up in amusement. 

After two more songs, they made a beeline for the bar, and weren’t surprised that their drinks were on the house. 

“Compliments, from Mr. Maroni.”

“Oh, _joy_.” Faith quipped, before downing her shot of tequila in a single go—licking the salt off her thumb sinfully and biting into a quartered lime with relish. Buffy quickly followed suit, as they glanced around the club and immediately spotted the owner, headed their way. 

“Got to give the guy props,” Faith bit out, “he’s persistent.”

“He looks like a lech.” Buffy snarked, causing Faith’s shoulders to heave in amusement. 

“ _You get the feeling we’re being watched, B?_ ” She asked silently.

“What do you mean?”

Faith did a quick scan around the room again, before her gaze lifted to the rafters and she smirked. Leave it to Wayne to come prepared. She didn’t know if she should be impressed with the man’s stalking capabilities or not. 

Her concentration was broken however, when Maroni was within earshot. 

“Ladies.” The man bowed, and she really wanted to roll her eyes. She could tell that Buffy wanted to stick her finger down her throat and mimic a gagging motion. “Welcome to my club.”

“Is it you we have to thank for the drinks?” Buffy asked politely, and Maroni nodded. 

“Two such beautiful ladies shouldn’t be buying their own drinks. Especially not in my club.”

“How altruistic.” She deadpanned, causing Maroni to give her his undivided attention. 

“Do you have a name, Beautiful?”

“Hope.”

Buffy glared at her incredulously, as she lifted a hand and gestured in her direction. 

“She’s, Alice.”

“Alice?”

“Yeah, you know? Like in _Wonderland_.”

Maroni grinned, while she reached back for her second shot, downed it a single go and licked the salt suggestively, before biting into the lime. 

“And where does Hope come from?”

“ _Not here._ ” She replied cheekily, causing Maroni to chuckle.

“You have a quick wit.”

“So I’ve been told. Seems like a hopping joint. You must do good business here?”

“It pays the bills.”

“Based on the Italian suit you’re wearing? I’d say you’re being modest.” She replied back sharply. “Gucci, yes?”

“You know your designers?”

“Eh, I get by.”

Maroni turned to Buffy, and asked pointedly, “And what about you, Alice?”

“I prefer Tom Ford. This one here,” she jutted her chin in Faith’s direction, “likes whips and chains.”

Maroni’s eyes widened, as did his smile—while Faith rolled her eyes at her Sister Slayer. 

“Not _all_ the time,” she replied waspishly, “but I do like control. Sue me.” 

“Are you both planning on being in Gotham for a while?”

“Who knows. I haven’t seen anything here yet, that’s made me want to stay put.”

“Gotham has a bit of a dark reputation.” Maroni was quick to point out. “But if you know where to look, it can come with several enticing perks.”

“And you know where to look?” Buffy queried. 

“Being a night club owner isn’t all I do. I have my hands in multiple business ventures.”

“You sound like quite the entrepreneur,” Faith winked, before her eyes caught on a movement to her left, then noted the ensuing ruckus. 

A woman down the bar, was being accosted by a male patron...and by the looks of it, he seemed rather angry. 

Buffy caught the scene too, and Faith hummed, turning her attention to the now noticeable debacle. 

Voices started to become louder from the couple, but before Maroni gestured to his goon to handle it, Faith sauntered over like a panther—down to the other end of the bar, just as the man grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her roughly up off her seat. 

“Johnny! Let me _go_!”

“Not a chance, Candy. I told you I didn’t want you going out tonight and yet here you are!”

“It’s Lisa’s bachelorette party! Of course I’m going to come! She’s my best friend!”

“I told you, you weren’t to go out with them!”

“Excuse me?” Faith interrupted with a sweet smile. “Is there a problem?”

“This is none of your business.” The man snarled hatefully, while the woman just cringed back as the pressure around her arm tightened. 

“You’re causing a scene, _friend_ —and you’re hurting her too. It’d probably be a good idea to let her go before you do something stupid.”

“Stay out of this, bitch!”

The man yanked on the woman, Candy’s arm—causing her to cry out in pain and the next thing anyone saw, was the man called Johnny—his face smashed against the bar with Faith behind him...holding his arm up behind his back and her leg wedged against his back right thigh. 

“Time to _leave_ , Johnny.”

Maroni’s bouncer came over and grabbed the guy from Faith with a nod of thanks, and once Johnny was gone, she turned to Candy—who was being consoled by her friends. 

“You okay?” 

“Yes. Thank you. He’s really not a bad guy, but when he gets drinking...”

Sighing softly, she just cocked her head at the other woman with a pitying expression. 

“Can I give you a piece of advice?”

“Sure.”

“This isn’t the first time he’s gotten handsy, and my guess it won’t be the last. So do yourself a solid and walk away now, while you still can.”

“He would never...”

“Come to a bar in front of hundreds of people and act like a violent tool?”

Candy didn’t reply, so Faith glanced at her friends, who were all standing there unsure of what to do. 

“You’re her friends?”

They all nodded. 

“Then be _friends_ and help her figure this shit out.”

They all nodded again, and Faith left them to return to Buffy and Maroni—who was now eyeing her with something akin to hunger. 

“That was rather kind of you, Hope.” Maroni bowed his head in gratitude, and she just waved her hand back like it was nothing. 

“What can I say? I’m a kind girl.”

Maroni chortled softly, his eyes lingering on Faith’s cleavage for far too long. 

“We should head out, Alice. _Joker_ killed the mood.”

Her sharp gaze caught the startled reactionary grimace on Maroni’s face, but it was enough for her to realize that the man was more than passingly involved with the Joker. 

“Sure.” Buffy sighed, as she nodded politely at Maroni. “Thanks for the free drinks.”

“Of course. Come back anytime, and I’ll make sure you both are always welcome.”

Faith didn’t reply, but smiled disingenuously as she grabbed Buffy’s hand and they quickly made their exit out of the club. When they got outside, she turned to her sister Slayer and said silently, “ _He’s working with the Joker.”_

“ _You sure?”_ Buffy replied into Faith’s mind.

“ _Yep_.” She responded, immediately hailing a cab and once inside, gave the driver the address for Robinson Park. They could walk to the apartment building from there. 

Once they got back to their apartment, Faith went to her room to get out of her clubbing clothes. Heading for the shower, she scrubbed off her make-up and slipped into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, before plopping down on her bed and staring out the window. 

A slight knock on her door, has her calling out, “Come on in, Rona.”

The black girl peered around the doorframe and smiled. “How do you do that?”

“It’s a talent.” She prevaricated, patting the bed next to her in welcome. “What’s up?”

“No ones heard from Vi. Did Mr. Wayne find anything out?”

“Dunno. If he did, he’d probably call Giles.”

“She called me.”

Faith sat up suddenly. “What?”

“Violet, she called me a couple weeks ago. She didn’t sound like herself.”

“In what way?”

“She’d been seeing this guy for a while. Said she was in love, but when she called me something was off.”

“How long was she seeing him?”

“She started seeing him maybe two years ago. Met him at some bar in Chicago. He was a shrink, I think.”

“Name?”

“Johnathan Crane.”

Faith’s brow furrowed. She had seen that name recently. Standing up quickly, she headed out of her room with Rona at her heels and found the files that Wayne had messengered over on Maroni. Flipping through the pages, she didn’t notice all the other girls and Buffy come into the room until she’d found what she was looking for.

“Shit!”

“What is it, Faith?” Rona asked, worriedly. 

“I recognized the name. Dr. Johnathan Crane. Worked with Carmine Falcone and was responsible for the contamination of the water in Gotham two years ago that led to the outbreak in the Narrows area. Police never found him though.” She glanced over at Buffy. “Did you know Vi was seeing this dipshit?”

“No!” Buffy lamented, as Faith tossed her the picture of the good doctor. “How?”

“She told me.” Rona admitted sheepishly. “When I talked to her last week, she seemed pretty upset about something. I’d figured...”

“She’d broken up with her boyfriend?” She interjected, and Rona nodded. 

“Do you think that’s where she is?” Buffy asked, with far more calmness than she felt. 

“Don’t know, but I do know who might know where we can find this Crane fellow.”

Rushing back into her room, Faith redressed in her Slayer garb, grabbed a stake, knife and her cell phone before she made her way to where her helmet and keys were left. 

“You’re going out _now_?”

“Yep,” she bit out harshly, “I have a bat to find and I know just where to look.”

Everyone eyed each other with trepidation as the front door slammed, signaling Faith’s abrupt departure.   



	5. Gorgeous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Faith have a confrontation.

Faith’s motorcycle tore through the streets of Gotham, as she headed back towards Little Italy. She had grabbed Bruce Wayne’s cell number from Giles notes, and programmed it into her phone. When she reached the tunnel that led to Broadway, she pulled over and dialed the number. 

He picked up on the second ring.

“Who is _this_?” The gruff voice sounded over the phone, causing her to grin. 

“It’s Faith Lehane. I need to meet with you. I’m at the tunnel on the north side of Broadway.”

“There’s an off ramp a quarter mile up the road, take it and wait under the bridge. I’ll be there soon.”

The phone disconnected and she sighed, placing it back into her pocket. Revving her bike, she found her way down to the meeting point—and only had to wait ten minutes for Wayne to show. He was no longer dressed in his Batman gear, but on the back of a motorcycle that looked an awful lot like the new MV Agusta Superbike.

“Nice ride.” She quipped, as he turned off his motorcycle and flipped up his helmet shield, giving her an inscrutable look. 

“You _wanted_ something?”

His voice was curt, and she immediately felt her hackles rising as she glared back. 

“Johnathan Crane.”

Hazel eyes widened in recognition of the name. 

“What about him?”

“You know where I can find him?”

“Why?”

She folded her arms and sat back on her bike, wondering why Wayne was being such an ass. 

“You said you’d help. I don’t ask twice, rich _boy_.”

“You’ve got a rather large chip on your shoulder.”

She just shook her head in disgust before she bit out caustically, “You know _what_? I knew this was a bad idea coming here.”

She flipped down her visor and revved her bike up tires squealing, and before Bruce could say another word, she was flying down the street and out of sight. 

“Shit.” He grumbled, before deciding to give chase. 

He hadn’t thought it would’ve been much of a contest catching up with the Slayer, as he had the faster bike—but he didn’t account for how skilled Faith Lehane was on a motorcycle, nor how utterly fearless she was. When a large semi truck came out of nowhere—he watched in horror as she didn’t slow down, but skidded her motorcycle nearly horizontal under the truck and came out the other side in one piece before she banked hard left and headed back across the tunnel and out on the far side of Robinson Park. 

“ _Fucking hell!”_ He gasped, as he eventually made the same turn effortlessly, finally gaining on her as they’d reached the east side of Chester Avenue. 

He watched her turn into the garage, and he followed in right after her, skidding his bike to a stop as he pressed a switch on his handlebar, which would temporarily scramble any cameras within the vicinity. Faith was already off her bike and taking off her helmet, as she stormed over towards him and he was left unprepared for the hard right uppercut that landed in his stomach— leaving him bowled over and gasping for air. 

Removing his own helmet, he winced up into the stormy eyes of one very pissed off Slayer. 

“Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?!” She growled out. “If Giles hadn’t given his word to help you, know this! I’d wipe the floor with you!”

“You’re assuming you could?” He wheezed out a bit, valiantly straightening his posture into a more ready fighting stance. 

“Like it’d be difficult?”

“You might be surprised.”

“There’s _nothing_ surprising about men like you.” Faith bit back. 

He didn’t know how to reply to that, as it was abundantly clear that Rupert Giles hadn’t been exaggerating about Faith’s inability to trust. 

He could well understand that sentiment. 

“Men like me?” He asked slowly. “Would you mind clarifying?”

“Tell me, Wayne? Do you make it a habit to _stalk_ those you’re supposed to be working with? If you didn’t trust me and Buffy to get the job done, you should’ve said something before showing up at the club and spying on us.”

He blanched. 

How had she’d known he’d been there? 

It was true he’d followed them, but only because he’d felt they might need backup. 

But he’d been totally unprepared for what he’d seen earlier at Oswald’s. He hadn’t expected the sensuous vixen he’d seen, walking into the club looking like fucking sin as every man in that fucking place had salivated over her, as if they’d wanted to...

Even Maroni had been utterly smitten. 

He’d called her—beautiful, and fuck...

... _ **she’d been more than that...**_

She’d been utterly _gorgeous_ and he’d felt parts of his body stirring in ways that it hadn’t done in far, far too long.

“I wasn’t stalking, Miss Lehane. I went there as back up.”

“Really?” She scoffed. “I’m supposed to buy that one, Wayne? Maybe wanna try that one again?”

“It’s true.” He put his hands up in the universal sign of submission. “You aren’t familiar with Gotham yet, so you don’t know just how quickly things can get out of hand.”

“I’m pretty familiar with taking care of myself, Wayne.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”

Faith quirked her head at him as her gaze bored into his own, and he could tell she was assessing him for any possible sign of deceit or duplicity. 

Whatever she’d discovered, seemed to placate her temporarily as she demanded again, “Crane?”

“What about him?”

“I need to find him.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“Violet.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Rona told me tonight that Vi had a boyfriend she’d been seeing for a while. Crane. I need to find this guy and from the information you gave Giles, it seems as if he’s a first class creep.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” he admitted, “and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s gone after someone.”

“Who?”

“Rachel Dawes. Assistant District Attorney.”

“What happened to her?”

“Crane weaponized a hallucinogenic toxin and infected Rachel with it. She’d nearly lost her mind, but I was able to administer an antidote in time, only because I’d been hit with the same toxin a few days prior.”

Faith’s face paled as she started to pace, running her hand through her hair in frustration. 

“So you don’t know where to find him?”

“He’s been running drugs for the Chechen recently.”

She closed her eyes in pained understanding. Violet, had been the most affected after the fight with the First. She’d been badly injured and had turned to drugs for a time to cope with her nightmares. The only ones who knew about it though, were Rona and herself. If Giles or Buffy had found out, well...

“What is it?” He asked in worry, seeing the haunted expression on her face. 

“Violet is a good kid but she was pretty fucked up after what happened in Sunnydale. She’d almost not made it. She and Rona were in Chicago together, and for a time Violet started using drugs to cope. Rona called me and I went to Chicago and brought Vi back to Cleveland to sober her up. When she’d seemed as if she was ready to head back out into the field, I took her back to Chicago. I didn’t know she’d been seeing someone.”

“Crane?”

She nodded. “Rona knew. She told me tonight.”

“Hence why you came looking for me?”

“What _other_ reason might I have been looking for you, Wayne?” She snarked, and Bruce chuckled. 

“I don’t know, Miss Lehane? You were quite the _hit_ at the club tonight.”

Rolling her eyes, she then raised her head and mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out. 

“Maroni thought so,” she finally quipped out mockingly. “The lech is in cahoots with the Joker, or did you miss that part?”

“No, I got that.”

“You’re _welcome_.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed to thank you just yet.”

She moved over into his space quickly, sneering up at him. “You really don’t know how to be anything but a jerk, do you?”

“And you?” He snarked back, “If that chip on your shoulder got any bigger...”

“I’d lodge it up your ass.” She finished with a sinister smile. 

The two stared each other down, as the air around them crackled with raw sexual tension. Faith wasn’t the kind of woman to back down from a fight, and Bruce had never cowed to anyone in his life—but he was beginning to wonder if he’d bit off more than he could chew when it came to Faith Lehane. 

After another tense moment, the Slayer retreated back on a sigh. 

“Right now my priority is Violet. If you won’t get me that info, I’ll just find Crane myself.”

She turned around to leave, but a tentative hand on her arm stopped her.

“I’m sorry. I’ll see what I can find out.”

She glanced up at Wayne over her shoulder, and could see the sincerity behind his gaze. She nodded once and then stormed out of the garage, leaving behind one very flustered Billionaire— staring after her like he’d been bowled over by a ten ton wrecking ball. 

He was definitely way...

...way in over his head.


	6. Ubiysta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and the Batman join forces to rescue Violet.

It was a few days later when Faith finally got a text from Gotham’s Prince. Apparently scuttlebutt on the streets had Crane meeting with the Chechen later that same night in a parking garage near STAR Labs on the other side of town. Buffy had the junior Slayers patrolling through Gotham in packs of three—while Willow, Giles and Dawn—who had shown up yesterday from London, were working on determining what kind of demon this Joker might be. 

Faith had been more sullen and snarky than usual after her altercation with Wayne, which she’d kept to herself. She didn’t want Buffy to be all judgey over her punching the ponce in the gut. 

The fact that he’d taken the blow without retaliating, as well as being able to shake it off rather quickly had impressed her far more than she’d been willing to admit. 

Bruce Wayne was an enigma. She’d discreetly done some background on the billionaire, learning about his disappearance from Gotham for seven years and his former relationship with the Assistant District Attorney, Rachel Dawes. Recent pics of the woman had her spending time with the newly elected District Attorney, Harvey Dent—who was handsome in a square-jawed, blonde Viking sort of way. 

Wayne however, was all smoldering intensity and lithe lines. The man walked like a predator, his posture on edge as if he was constantly raging an internal battle of some kind. He was orphaned younger than she’d been, lost his parents to a mugging gone sideways. He’d seen the whole thing, and she knew what that kind of horror did to a child. She’d witnessed her own Father kill her Mother, before he’d turned the gun on himself. It was a truth she’d never shared with anyone, as she’d run from her childhood apartment and the police had found her days later, when she’d broken into someone’s house looking for food and shelter. She’d been sent to St. Swithin’s orphanage in Boston, where she’d lived until she’d been called. 

The horrors there hadn’t been much better. 

Shaking her head clear of those useless thoughts, she texted Wayne back and told him she’d be at the rendezvous point at the appointed time. He hadn’t responded and she’d been grateful for it. She didn’t exactly trust the man, and despite her reluctant attraction, she wasn’t _stupid_. 

Because there was no way a man like Bruce Wayne would ever look at her twice. 

The rest of the day was spent resting, and around midnight, she found herself gaping like a loon at some kind of military tank in black, with the Batman staring intently at her. 

She was dressed in all black leather herself. She wasn’t a fan of guns, really never had been...but she did like knifes and other sharp, pointy objects. 

Her hair was pulled back into a long braid down her back, and her makeup was dark and dramatic. 

She wasn’t wearing a mask, which was probably why Batman was glaring at her.

“Do you think it’s _wise_ to go out there with your face _exposed_?” He growled out lowly, in a dark, husky voice that did interesting things to her stomach. 

Not to mention her lady bits... 

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t have my past checked out, Batboy. And I’m not an idiot, for the record. If you didn’t disable all the cameras by now, then that means the crooks did. So I doubt, I’ll show up on any news feed in the morning.”

She watched Wayne’s lips purse, but he pulled out something from his batsuit and handed it to her. 

Taking it gingerly, she smirked when she let said item hang in front of her. 

“Really? A mask?” She chuckled. “Am I going to get a pair of handcuffs and a whip, too?”

Bruce was grateful his face was covered, because his expression darkened as he turned around, not wanting the woman across from him to notice how much her words were affecting him. 

Ever since that night at Oswald’s, his dreams when he’d actually sleep—were filled with X-rated images of Faith Lehane in all sorts of interesting and highly inappropriate situations. 

“Put it _on_ ,” He growled out menacingly, “it’s for your protection, as well as mine.”

“Ah,” she hummed lowly, “don’t want to be associated with me. I get it.”

Batman’s head whipped around at the comment, but Faith’s expression held no emotion. It was a blank mask of stone, cold and unfeeling. He watched as she placed the mask on, which covered her eyes and part of her face. He swallowed roughly, as the picture before him was doing all sorts of interesting things to his senses, not to mention his body. 

He didn’t speak, watching the Slayer saunter over towards the railing, then glancing over the edge with interest. 

“Where are they meeting?” Her husky voice reached him, even as she kept her back to him. 

“Fifth level.”

“So what’s the play?”

“We wait to make sure all the principals arrive.”

“Does that include the Batman wannabes hanging out one level down?”

He blanched as he glanced at where Faith was pointing, and the word, “ _shit_ ” fell from his lips.

“I take it you weren’t expecting them?” She hummed in amusement. 

“No, I work alone.”

She turned and faced him, her lips quirking down. “Sorry to ruin your alone time.”

“I didn’t mean it like...”

“Don’t worry,” she interrupted, “I prefer working alone myself. Less chance of things going wrong or people disappointing you.”

That comment had him sighing, before he gazed back down to where the two Batman imposters were waiting. 

“How did they know where to find you?” She asked quietly. 

“That’s a very good question.” He grunted.

“Do you want me to go take them out?”

He side-eyed the brunette with a smirk. “Are you going to play _nice_?”

“Maybe.” She winked before she leapt down to the lower level like a fucking panther and he watched with admiration as she silently took out both men, disarmed them and tied them up with zip ties, she’d pulled from her belt loop.

_**That was sexy as fuck...** _

Shaking his head, Bruce didn’t know what to think of Faith Lehane. She was a walking paradox of beauty and lethality wrapped in a cloak of mystery. He had actually looked into her background, and found almost next to nothing, but what he _had_ found had given him pause. There were no school records past tenth grade, which she’d never finished. She was orphaned at age nine, and sent to St. Swithin’s in Boston for a time. What he’d found out about her parents, had left him stunned. Faith’s Father, had killed her Mother, and then shot himself. There was nothing in the original police report about Faith, as she hadn’t been found at the scene. She’d been discovered a few days later—cold, tired and hungry no doubt, squatting in someone’s home. He had found a picture of her in a sealed juvenile file, which he’d paid a good sum of money for. The picture of the young Faith had broken his heart a bit. Her eyes were sunken in, and looked dead—and somehow, he’d just _known_ that she had witnessed what had happened with her parents. It was the _exact same look_ he saw everyday, when he stared at his reflection in the mirror as a child. 

He was somewhat distracted by his morose thoughts, when Faith appeared right next to him like smoke, and he flinched slightly—which she didn’t miss as her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. She was quick to move away from him, watching the immediate area for Crane to arrive. 

Which he did about fifteen minutes later. 

The Chechen pulled up too, in two large black SUV’s—while Crane was in a white industrial van with four goons. The Chechen had his dogs, as well as a handful of thugs, and they all had assault weapons at the ready. 

“This should be fun.” Faith quipped quietly, as she watched the scene unfold. 

“Look what you’re drugs did to my customers!” The Chechen said with incredulity, his goon throwing a doped up druggie down on the garage pavement in disgust. 

“Buyer beware.” Crane said, behind his Scarecrow mask and Faith scoffed mumbling, “ _Fucking lunatics._ ”

Bruce smirked, listening to the conversation below and then at the right moment, sent his tumbler on autopilot, through the garage barrier and into the fray. 

Gunshots exploded throughout the garage, and Faith turned to him with a lifted eyebrow. 

“Dramatic, much?”

He rolled his eyes at first, then widened them as she gripped the railing and quietly landed behind the front of the van. She took out two of Crane’s goons, before the third one rounded on her with his gun. She tossed a knife at him, which hit him through his hand but his scream of pain, alerted the others to her presence.

The Chechen’s goons released the dogs and they went straight for her...

As Bruce launched down and started fighting off the Chechen’s men, he didn’t immediately notice that Faith had managed to instantly subdue the trained attack dogs, with a feral growl of her own. 

They sat back on their haunches, to the stunned shock of the Chechen, who openly stared at her in horror. 

“Those are _my_ dogs!”

“Not anymore.” She grinned, then whistled and said clearly in Russian, “ _ **ataka**_.”

“ _How_?” The greasy man gaped, but the dogs immediately turned and launched themselves towards their former owner, while Faith went after Crane...who had managed somehow, to get into the driver’s seat of his van and took off—heading back down the ramp towards the only exit. 

The Chechen turned when he heard a thump behind him, and was instantly besieged upon by his own dogs...which proceeded to maul him. 

“Stop! _Nyet_!”

But the dogs didn’t listen to him at all. 

Batman, knocked the last of the Chechen’s goons out and immediately noticed Faith leaning over the guard railing before she stood up and then dropped over the barrier into a fifty foot free fall.

He ran over to the side and watched, agape—as she came down hard on the top of Crane’s van, appearing to knock him out as the van imploded—stopping it in it’s tracks. 

She then whistled loudly, and the two attack dogs halted their attack on the bloodied mobster, who was whimpering down on the ground—his arms, face and legs riddled with dog bites. 

“ _Fuck_.” He whispered in awe, as he came over and disarmed the Russian—before fondly patting both dogs on their heads. 

He eventually heard a scuffle behind him, and looked back to see Faith dragging Crane next her...he was obviously now conscious, and was desperately struggling to get away, but the dogs started to growl, which stopped him cold. 

“Good boys.” Faith purred, and they wagged their nubs sitting down happily. She petted them both before turning her attention to the mobster, who was glaring up at her with murder in his eyes. 

“Traitors.” The Chechen groaned. 

“They just like me better.” She threw Crane down and then grabbed a set of zip ties and bound him, before she ripped the Scarecrow mask off his head. She then grabbed a photo from inside her jacket and shoved it into Crane’s face. 

“ _Where is she?_ ”

Crane tilted his head at the photo with a frown, then back up at Faith—his eyes clearly assessing before they widened in alarm. 

“That’s _not_ possible.”

“What?”

“There’s only supposed to be one of you! He said, there was only supposed to be _one_ of you.”

She frowned as she considered Crane’s words carefully. 

“Who told you this?”

Crane didn’t reply, so she whistled and the Rottweilers moved forward, snarling and gnashing—which caused Crane to shake in fear. 

“The Joker. He said there was only one Slayer.”

The Chechen’s eyes widened in recognition. “ _Ubiysta_!”

“At your service.” She sniped sarcastically, before turning back to Crane. 

“Where is Vi? Tell me and I’ll let the police deal with you, but if you don’t?” She _tsked_ as she stood up and snapped her fingers, causing both the dogs to flank her, while Bruce stood back stunned. 

He’d never seen anything like this before in his life. 

“Docks. Pier 48.”

“That’s Maroni’s territory.” Batman growled. 

“So it is.” Crane mocked. 

“That’s where you’ve been making your drugs, yes?” Faith asked lowly and Crane swallowed, but nodded reluctantly. “How many lackeys does Maroni have watching the place?”

“Twenty, at least. You’ll _never_ get to her.”

“ _Wanna bet?_ ” She snarled, gripping the man under his collar. “If something happens to her, you’ll be seeing me _again_ and trust me—you don’t want that.”

“Slayers don’t kill humans.” Crane bit back, but Faith’s grin turned feral.

“You sure about that?”

Crane didn’t reply, and Bruce felt his stomach swoop at the look of pure hatred on Faith’s face. 

“The cops are on their way.” He growled in warning.

She nodded and then knelt down near the Chechen and smirked, “Thanks for the dogs.”

“Bitch.”

“I’ve been called worse,” she snarked, “but perhaps if you were smart, you might share with me _who_ Maroni has on his payroll inside the Gotham PD? I hear Lt. Gordon has a crime task force, so I would imagine Maroni would have a few people on the inside, yes?”

“And what’s in it for me?” The Russian snarled angrily. 

“Ya ne nakormlyu tebya demonam.” (I won’t feed you to the demons)

“Ty blef.” (You’re bluffing)

“Ty khochesh' risknut'?” (You want to take that chance?)

Bruce’s eyes widened as he listened in. He had read in Faith’s file that her birth Mother was Russian and birth Father was half, but hadn’t known she was fluent in the language. 

“Ramirez and Wertz.” The Chechen replied fearfully, and Bruce watched Faith’s face morph into a pleased smile. “Maroni is paying for Ramirez mother’s hospital bills and Wertz has been on his payroll for years.”

“Anyone else?”

“Proctor and Smith, in the special unit division.”

Faith stood up and nodded, as she heard the sirens approaching. 

“Thanks.” 

She sighed and then looked at the dogs lovingly. 

“Come on boys, let’s go home.”

The two dogs barked and she patted down the tied up lackeys until she found the keys to the SUV’s. She grabbed them and clicked on both which opened the back tailgate to the nearest one, and the dogs jumped inside immediately. She then got into the driver’s seat and started the car. 

“You’re _taking_ their car?” Batman asked incredulously, and she shrugged. 

“They won’t fit on my bike, and it’s not like he’s going to need wheels where he’s going. Besides, I have somewhere I need to be.”

You can’t mean to go in there with no backup!”

“ _Please_. I’ll have backup.”

She reversed the car and pulled out just as the police pulled up. Batman moved over to the Lieutenant as he got out of his car, taking the man aside and sharing with him privately what had been confessed and Gordon’s face pinched as he asked shakily, “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll get on it, immediately.” He then glanced in surprise when he noticed just whom the Batman had captured. “How?”

“Long story, but I need to go.”

Gordon waved his men over and watched as the Batman sped away in his tank. Shaking his head, he wondered just how the vigilante had discovered about his people. He didn’t want to believe it, but he wouldn’t discount it either. Dent had taunted him just the other day about Wertz and Ramirez being dirty. It would seem he owed the new DA an apology, if this turned out to be true.

Batman was flying though the streets of Gotham on his way to Pier 48. He had no doubt that was where Faith was headed and sure enough when he got there, he noticed the black SUV parked just outside the now broken, metal gate. 

She had obviously ripped through the lock like it was nothing. 

He decided to follow. He wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew one way or the other that Faith Lehane wasn’t coming out of here without her fellow Slayer. 

Then he heard the gunshots. 

“Fuck!”

He ran for the nearest scaffold and launched himself up to the highest point and gaped at the scene below. Faith had already taken out six goons, all of which were tied up and gagged unconscious on the ground. He turned on his infrared night vision, and was able to see the pulsating heat from the bodies in the warehouse on his right, as well as Faith and the two dogs. He flew over to the upper part of the warehouse and crashed in from above...taking out everyone in his path until he met Faith on the third level where there was a locked metal door, that appeared to be several inches thick. 

Faith went to open it but he pulled her back and pointed to the wiring at the top of the door. 

“Explosives?” She queried and he nodded, checking the line and noticing where it entered into the wall. He then took out a small capsule, and opened it over the wire connector, the liquid instantly freezing the triggering device. 

“We have five minutes before that melts and the charge detonates.”

Faith nodded and then did a roundhouse kick against the door, knocking it off its hinges as it collapsed into the room beyond, while he just stood there stunned stock still. 

How in the fuck had she done that?! 

He was so surprised, he didn’t immediately notice Faith rushing into the room, nor her cries of ‘ _no, no, no!’_ As she lifted a small red-head into her arms—desperately checking her for signs of life. 

He moved in quickly too, and picked up the young woman and growled at Faith to follow him out of the building. She whistled for the dogs, who once they were clear of the upper levels, fell into pace with them both. When they got to the SUV, Bruce turned as he heard the explosion coming from the area they’d just been in, but then the entire warehouse started to go up into flames, as multiple explosions detonated in succession. 

“Fuck!” Faith watched the scene with a self-satisfied look. “No more drugs for Maroni.”

“Looks that way.” He grumbled, carefully laying down the young woman, Violet—in the back of the SUV and checking her pulse. 

It was faint, but it was there. 

“She’s alive. We need to get her to the hospital.”

“No!” Faith yelled. “If we do, then the Joker will know that she’s alive and was rescued. We need to bring her back to Giles. Willow can heal her.”

“Willow?”

“Yes. She’s a witch.”

“Excuse me.”

“Long story and I don’t have time to argue with you.” She whistled for the dogs to climb into the car, which they did eagerly as he took Violet and buckled her into the passenger side of the SUV, before he nodded warily at Faith. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You just make sure Crane pays for this, Wayne. I don’t have to tell you...”

“No, you don’t.”

“Good.”

He closed the door and patted on the roof, watching with a heavy heart as the Black Suburban sped away into the night. 

Then he watched the warehouse go up in flames, and he couldn’t help but smirk in satisfaction. Tonight had borne unexpected fruit. Crane and the Chechen were out of commission and soon, Maroni would follow. Gambol was a wild card, and he would have to find a way to deal with him but in all—it had been a productive night. 

Climbing into his tumbler, he made his way back to the Wayne Docks and called Alfred to let him know he’d be home sooner than he’d thought. 


	7. How Do You Do That?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce makes his move.

Bruce had been expecting the visit, and in all truth—he’d missed Rachel. She’d been spending the last week after the Chechen’s arrest with Harvey, going over the Russian Mobster’s sudden plethora of helpful information in return for immunity from prosecution and a one way ticket home to Moscow. 

Both Wertz and Ramirez had been placed on administrative leave, as had Proctor. Smith had disappeared from his home sometime before the cops descended, and a bolo was placed out with his information. 

The explosion at Maroni’s pier had been all over the news, as had the fact that the Batman had been sited at the docks just prior to the blast. 

Hence why Rachel was standing across from him in his office at Wayne Enterprises, looking as if she’d been betrayed. 

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” She hissed lowly, and he gazed up into hardened blue eyes that were assessing him with anger. 

“What would you like to _know_ , Rachel?”

“Were you responsible for the explosion at the docks?”

“No.” He shrugged. “At least, not directly.”

“What do you mean?” Her expression was now confused, sitting down in the chair across from his desk effortlessly...crossing her legs demurely as she considered him. 

“We got intel...”

“ _We_?”

**Fuck!**

He swallowed heavily and sighed. 

“Look Rachel, all you _need_ to know is that there was a woman trapped prisoner in that warehouse. When I got there, I took out Maroni’s thugs and found where they were holding her. I had to use some creative thinking to get her out, but the door had been rigged to explode. I got her out just in time and once the explosion occurred, my best guess is it set off a chain reaction in the lower drug labs, which caused the whole warehouse to come down on itself.”

“And killed ten of Maroni’s men!”

“That wasn’t ideal, but again... _unforeseen_.”

“Bruce...”

“ _Don’t_ , okay?” He growled, as he stood up and went over to the window to gaze out at the Gotham skyline. “There are things going on in Gotham right now, Rachel. Things you have no idea of.”

“Like what?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He grimaced, before turning around to face his best friend again. “You have the Chechen, and Crane. What more do you want?”

Rachel sighed. “I _know_ , Bruce—and believe me, I’m not ungrateful for this unexpected windfall. The Chechen has been surprisingly helpful. He gave us a name—Lau. A Chinese triad accountant who has been laundering money for the Gotham Mob for over three years now.”

“Where is he?”

“In Hong Kong, but if we could get him here?”

He sat back down and hummed thoughtfully. “I might be able to help with that.”

“I’d thought you might.” Rachel seemed placated, before she went on. “Daggett is throwing a fundraiser on Saturday at the museum for the Gotham City Libraries and Arts Foundation.”

“ _Oh_?” He sat back, now intrigued. “And just why and how does this concern me?”

“Well, I’m attending with Harvey, and I just thought...”

He openly glared, as Rachel’s voice fell away. He had suspected that Rachel was romantically involved with the new DA, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. 

“You two are together?”

“Yes. It’s fairly new, but we’ve been dating for a few months.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“ _Bruce_...” her tone was admonishing. 

“Fine.” 

He’d drop it for now, figuring this conversation would likely end with them fighting again. It was all they seemed to do these days, when they were in a room alone together. Rachel didn’t approve of his vigilante methods and he...well...

...he didn’t exactly approve of her fucking someone who wasn’t him.

Not that he’d ever willingly admit to it.

“Please, just promise me you’re not going to show up with a plethora of models on your arm again. It’s getting a bit dated, Bruce.”

“Don’t worry about my social life, Rachel. I’m sure I can find a nice date for the evening.”

“So you’re going to attend?”

“If I don’t, you’ll just be back here the next day reading me the riot act for being a shut in.”

“That’s true.”

“I have work to do.” He dismissed evenly, and noted with a heavy heart that Rachel didn’t seem to be too bothered by his abrupt brush-off. 

“I’ll see you Saturday, Bruce.”

He waved her off, and sat back in his chair as he considered his options...before a wicked smirk morphed onto his handsome face. 

It was about time he paid Faith Lehane a visit. 

The ride to Gotham Terrace wasn’t too long today, as it was a Wednesday afternoon and summer. Most of the streets near the high school were vacant this time of year. 

When he pulled up to the building, he parked his Lamborghini in the garage and headed into the foyer. Since he’d been here a few times, security waved him through with no issues. 

It was about five minutes later he found himself staring at the door to Faith’s apartment, and it took him another three minutes to work up the courage to knock. 

Luckily, it was Rona who answered to door.

“Hey, Mr. Wayne! Come on in!”

“Call me Bruce, Rona.”

“Sure, Mr. Wayne.” The young woman smirked, leading him into the main area where everyone was sitting. 

Well, everyone but the one he’d come to see. 

“Bruce.” Buffy nodded politely. “Did we have an appointment?”

“No, I just wanted to stop by and see how Violet was doing.”

Several inscrutable looks were shared, but Buffy stood up and gestured for him to follow her back to a room at the end of the hallway. She knocked three times, heard a faint ‘ _come in’_ and opened the door slowly. 

“Hey Vi, you have a visitor.”

“What? Who?”

Buffy opened the door wider, and he walked in with a sheepish smile, immediately nodding to Faith, who was eyeing him speculatively.

“Mr. Wayne! Faith told me you helped her rescue me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Logan. I’m sorry I haven’t been by before now, but I just wanted to see how you were doing and if you needed anything.”

“That’s really kind of you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Faith drawled out emotionlessly, earning a glare from Vi, which had her putting up her hands in mock defense. “Fine, Vi. I’ll play nice for you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Shut the fuck up, kid.” Faith growled, and Bruce smirked at how irritated Faith appeared to be by the clear affection from the younger girl. 

It would seem that Faith Lehane had untapped depths to her personality. 

“How are you, Miss Lehane?”

“Five by five.” She responded blithely. “Still looking for that psycho, but he seems to have gone underground.”

“Any word on what kind of demon he is?”

Faith glanced at Buffy, and not for the first time he had to wonder if they could silently communicate. A thought that was confirmed a moment later when Violet sighed and admonished petulantly, “Don’t you both know it’s _rude_ to talk when no one can hear your convo?”

He blanched. “You’re both _telepathic_?”

“Yes.” Buffy admitted with a small huff. 

“Is that common for Slayers?”

“No. But then there has never been two Slayers called at the same time.”

He knew his expression registered his confusion, and Violet chuckled. 

“It’s a long story, Mr. Wayne.”

“Call me, Bruce—“

“Then I’m, Vi.”

“Sounds good.”

Faith scoffed, earning another glare from Violet and Buffy. 

“Me and B were called before the destruction of Sunnydale,” Faith bit out. “Slayers have what is known as Potentials—girls, who might one day receive the call, but who’s powers don’t express until the previous Slayer dies.”

He nodded slowly, before his gaze locked into Buffy in sudden understanding. “You died and came back?”

“Yeah. A few times, if we’re getting technical. The first time I died was on June 2, 1997. My friend Xander revived me but another Slayer Kendra, was called. She died soon after. Killed, by vampires. Faith was called then. I died for a second time in 2001. I was actually dead for about six months that time, but was brought back by magic—but since Faith was still alive? No other Slayers were called. In 2002, a great evil tried to take root in Sunnydale. It called itself the First and we fought its minions. Vampire Progenitors called Turok-han.”

“Nasty pieces of work.” Faith quipped, taking Vi’s hand in solidarity, and the young woman smiled adoringly at the older Slayer. 

“Anyway, we were tasked to train the potential Slayers to fight, but we’d soon realized without the same power we have? They were all pretty much sitting ducks.”

“So what did you do?”

Buffy then looked over at Faith again, and the brunette sighed and nodded. Buffy left the room and returned a moment later with a kind of weapon he had never seen before. 

“This is the Slayer Scythe. Forged by magic and holds the essence of the Slayer’s power. Willow, used her Wiccan mojo to activate it in 2003 and transferred our powers to all the potential Slayers. However, since we already had our powers?”

“They became enhanced?”

“Yep.”

He turned to Faith and lifted a questioning eyebrow. “Is that how you subdued those dogs?”

“Maybe.” She grinned and then whistled. He heard the scampering of claws and barking sounds coming down the hallway, and then the two large Rottweilers burst into the room and straight for their new owner...who petted them with a bright genuine smile on her face that had his breath hitching at how extraordinary Faith looked in that moment. 

Vi and Buffy exchanged knowing looks, while Faith remained oblivious. 

“This is Baba and that one is Yaga.”

“Seriously?” He huffed out a snort. “Baba Yaga? The old Slavic tale of...”

“Yes, that’s the one. But hey, they seem to like their names, so who am I to judge.”

He shook his head in wonder. He had no idea just how Faith had discovered their names, as he was fairly certain that information hadn’t been shared the other night. 

“It kinda suits them, in a weird way.”

Faith hummed, but didn’t reply as she glanced over at Violet, who was smirking at her playfully—causing Faith to roll her eyes in disgust. 

“What?” Violet asked, “You really need to...”

“Have you put a sock in it, kiddo.”

“Whatever.” The younger girl flopped back against her pillows, while Faith continued to glare at her. 

“Am I missing something?” He inquired, and Buffy snorted and shook her head at her Sister Slayer. 

“I’m going to check in with Giles. You,” she pointed to Violet, “need to rest. Come on, Faith. Stop hovering.”

“I don’t _hover_.”

“Sure you don’t.” Buffy taunted, before walking out of the room, leaving him glancing around awkwardly, while Faith stood up in protest and patted the bed next to Vi. Baba and Yaga jumped up and settled next to the younger Slayer, who showered them with attention. 

“ _Stay_.” Faith’s commanding voice had him swallowing hard, as he nodded one last time to Violet and then followed Faith out of the room. Once they were clear, he continued to walk behind her until she opened another door and gestured him inside. 

When the door shut, she rounded on him in a flash and had him pressed against the doorframe, her lips crashing onto his own. 

He didn’t resist at all. 

He lifted her up against him and returned her onslaught with a fervor he didn’t know he was capable of. 

He felt her hands grip into his hair at the base of his neck and he groaned as he moved over towards the bed and threw her down on it, before he covered his body with hers. When she bit his lip hard—but not hard enough to break the skin, he groaned and then broke the kiss staring down into wild eyes that were nearly black with desire. 

“So?” He growled out and she smirked up at him. 

“Tell me the _real_ reason you came here, Wayne?”

“You’re something else, you know that?”

“Yeah, _so_?”

“I wanted to invite you to go out with me Saturday night.”

Faith sat up and took him with her, as she stared at him in shock. 

“I’m sorry? Like a _date_?”

“If you like.”

“ _Why_?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he had to admit that Faith’s ability to sense duplicity was rather intoxicating. Or perhaps it was just her innate distrusting nature. Either way, she was like a drug he couldn’t seem to purge from his system. 

“Do I need a reason?”

“You’re _stalling_ , Rich boy. Tell me why.”

“Well, I suppose I could tell you that I have to attend this function because I was accosted by my best friend and promised I’d go. She also warned me that attending with my usual gaggle of models was overdone and trite. I might also mention that she’s seeing the new DA and he’s a good guy by all accounts, and I’m curious...”

“How they are together?”

“That too.”

“You’re still hung up on her?”

He felt his expression harden, but he shrugged before he answered somewhat truthfully, “I’ll always care about Rachel, but she came to my office today to berate me for what happened at the docks. Like it was all my fault.”

“She doesn’t support your vigilante alter ego?”

“No, not really.”

“Ah, so she supports it as long as she doesn’t have to get her hands dirty?”

He snorted, but tilted his head back in thought before he slowly nodded again in response. 

“That about sums it up.”

“Damn, she sounds like a real peach.” Faith deadpanned, but her lifted grin took some of the sting out of her words. “And the last reason?”

His hazel eyes turned back to dark brown ones and he sighed in defeat. “Because every time I close my eyes at night, all I see is _you_. I want to fuck you on every surface imaginable and do unspeakable things to you and fuck it all...I have no idea why.”

Faith threw her head back and laughed, causing him to scowl even more. 

“Should I leave?” He bit out caustically, but Faith shook her head in the negative. 

“Not unless you really want to. Truth be told, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’ve had a not so PG-13 thought or two focused in your general direction. But I’m not necessarily good at high society schtick, nor do I have patience for phonies, Wayne. Buffy might be a better idea, if you need a distraction.”

“No,” he shook his head emphatically, “Miss Summers is sweet and not my type. I don’t _do_ blondes.”

“Oh?”

“No.”

“Wow! That’s pretty much a hard ‘ _no_ ’ isn’t it?”

“Yes. I don’t have many though.”

“Really?” Faith moved over and straddled his lap, which he allowed without question. He gripped her perfect ass and pulled her directly on top of his burgeoning erection, which caused her eyes to widen in appreciation. “Is that all you?”

“Yes.” He growled again, as he leant down and nipped at her neck in warning, causing her to toss her head back with a pleasured sigh. 

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes locked with his and she smirked in challenge. “Dominant or Submissive?”

He cocked his head and shrugged. “I’m probably more of a switch, in truth. Women that I’ve had sex with in the past, have expected me to be the one in control, but I’ve never been with someone who could make me want to be a submissive in bed, and even though the idea intrigues me? I don’t think I’ve ever seriously considered the possibility before I met you.”

“And you really think you might be okay with me doing that for you?”

“ _Yes_.”

Leaning down, she bit his earlobe lightly, rocking herself onto his dick, which was more than substantial. “You’ve been thinking about this since the club, haven’t you?”

“Fuck, yes.” He gritted out huskily, letting his left hand tangle in her thick brunette tresses before bringing her lips down onto his again—in a bruising, punishing kiss. It didn’t take long for Faith to find herself on her back with Wayne looming over her, his right hand cupping her breast and pinching her nipple hard. 

She arched her back into his onslaught, and felt her panties completely soak through at the look of feral lust on his face. 

Then his cell phone rang.

He pulled it out and groaned, as he sat up and answered it. 

“Wayne.”

Faith listened as a man named Lucius on the other end of the line, explained that he had set up a meeting with a Mr. Lau, from Hong Kong and that the gentleman would be in Gotham on Friday at one o’clock for a meeting.

“Good work, Mr. Fox, I’ll be out of touch for the rest of today.”

“Of course, Mr. Wayne.”

He closed his cell phone and turned his attention back to the stunning brunette, who was smirking up at him. 

“Chinese Triad, I’m assuming?”

Shaking his head, he chuckled in appreciation. “How do you _do_ that?”

“So I was right?”

“Yes.” 

“Would you believe me if I said it was a lucky guess.”

“No.”

“You’re smarter than you look.”

He lunged for her and Faith laughed, as she was pulled back into his lap, except he didn’t kiss her—he just gazed at her thoughtfully. 

“Come back to my Penthouse with me?”

“Now?”

“Do you not want to?”

“I didn’t say that,” she clarified, “I just want to know what’s on the table before I agree to terms.”

“Like a contract?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.” He grumbled, even more impressed in spite of himself. “Is this so you don’t catch feelings?”

“Something like that. I’m going to assume that you’d prefer it that way.”

“Why would you assume that?”

She shrugged, but didn’t reply directly as she said obliquely, “It’s easier this way.”

“That’s not an answer, Faith.”

“And yet it’s the only one you’re going to get right now, Wayne. Take it or lump it, it’s up to you.”

He tilted his head and watched the woman in front of him, but she was a pro at concealing her emotions. Nothing she didn’t want him to see was getting through. 

“Fine. I’ll agree to your terms, but I reserve the right to renegotiate at a future date.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s fair.” She jumped down and grabbed the keys to her motorcycle.

“You can ride back with me?”

“No, I’d rather be mobile if that’s okay.”

“So you can ditch me at a moments notice?”

“Please, Wayne?” She scoffed. “Just how many women have you bailed out on when the call came in that some thug needed taking down? I have a responsibility, same as you.”

He nodded reluctantly, then stood up and smoothed down his suit jacket, which was a bit rumpled. “Fair enough. I live at Gotham Tower, Penthouse. The code to the garage is 44234, and the elevator code to take you to the Penthouse is 6260.”

“I’ll be there within the hour.”

“I’ll see you soon.” He bent down and placed a swift kiss on her lips before he sauntered out, leaving Faith staring after him wondering what the fuck just happened. 


	8. It’s a Talent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith goes to Bruce’s Penthouse and they discuss terms.

Faith managed to sneak out of the apartment, but not before she’d told Vi where she was going. The young Slayer giggled and told Faith that she wanted all the juicy details when she returned and to let her know if Bruce Wayne was as good at sex, as he was at everything else. She had snorted, but promised that she’d give Vi the blow by blow, when she got back. 

As she made her way to Bruce’s Penthouse, she had a moment of clarity where she’d wondered what in the fuck she was doing. Bruce Wayne was so far out of her league, it was like living on a different planet. She was a Slayer, sure. But beyond that, she had nothing to offer a man like him, except a good time. That thought brought her up short as she remembered why she’d sworn off men in the first place.

Perhaps though, she just needed to remember that this was just about the sex and nothing else. No feelings, no expectations—nothing more than two consenting adults enjoying each other. From what little she could glean about Wayne, it was obvious he still held a rather flaming torch for his high school girlfriend, and the only reason they weren’t together was because he was more committed to saving Gotham from itself, than being a selfish jerk and letting it go waste.

It was remarkably selfless, and unexpected—if she was being entirely honest with herself. 

Also, she’d figured that Bruce Wayne had discovered recently that there were perhaps some proclivities in his personality that he wanted to explore, and didn’t necessarily want to do it with the woman he was likely still harboring feelings for. It kinda made it easier to conclude that going into this situation, Wayne wasn’t choosing to be with her because he wanted her for something more real—

It was because he probably _didn’t_. 

He was _using_ her...

...the realization of that truth hit her as the elevator door to his Penthouse opened, and she walked inside...noticing Bruce standing by the window, with his back to her and his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. 

“Second thoughts, I see?” She quipped and he turned around, giving her a measured look. 

He eyed her intently as he sauntered towards her, but she put up her hand to stop him from entering her space. 

“I want the truth before we go any further.”

“Which is?”

“Are you using me?”

Bruce took a step back as he stared down into the emotionless face of the woman across from him, and he could see the tension in her body, even if her expression gave nothing away.

“Faith...”

“Don’t spare my feelings, Wayne—just tell me the truth. I get that you’re attracted to me, believe me—I get that a lot. But if this is just some experiment on your part, or a way to pass the time until your former girlfriend decides to dump the DA and come back to you? I’d rather know that upfront. That way, I can make the choice to proceed.”

He didn’t know what to say, but he had a feeling that wherever this was coming from...it stemmed from something far _deeper_.

“And if I told you I was?”

She snorted out a sound of derision, as she bypassed him and made her way over to the window. She didn’t say anything however, as she stared out into the abyss of Gotham. Her body was rigid, like she was preparing herself for battle and he could almost feel her warring with herself, but when she spoke, her voice was emotionless and cold. 

_Unfeeling_...

“It’s about what I expected.”

He didn’t have a comment for that, either. 

“I’m clean, I haven’t had penetrative sex in two years. I’m on birth control, so no problems or worries about unfortunate consequences.”

Her voice was clinical, and he felt something in his gut clench at how hollow she sounded. 

“I’d prefer we have a written contract, before we do this. If either one of us breaks it, the deal is off and we go our separate ways. NDA would be good.”

He was taken aback that Faith knew what an NDA was, but the more he learned about her—the more she surprised him. 

“You don’t trust me?”

“I really don’t trust anyone.” She said with that same dead tone. 

_Fuck_! 

He supposed he deserved this in a way, but damn—this wasn’t how he’d wanted this to go. 

“And if I told you I _wasn’t_ using you?”

She laughed, the sound not exactly filled with mirth. 

“I’d probably not believe you.”

“What happened to you?” He asked, before he could stop himself.

She didn’t reply though. All she said was, “Maybe you should take a few days to decide, Wayne.”

“I don’t need the days.” He stated unequivocally. “I knew what I’d wanted the minute I knocked on the door to your apartment. If I hadn’t wanted this, I wouldn’t have made the overture.”

She turned around and cocked her head at him, as if she was trying to figure him out. 

“You really are a study in contradictions, aren’t you?”

He hissed out a shocked breath, as his eyes widened. 

“ _How do you do that?”_

“It’s a talent.” She replied with a casual shrug. “And not one many people appreciate.”

“Why?”

She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, before her eyes drifted over the room and he could see her taking it all in. Most people would look around in awe, but she was entirely indifferent as if she was eyeing something commonplace and uninteresting. 

And it made him want her even _more_. 

“You think you’re damaged,” she said at last, “you’ve seen things that no person should ever have to see. You have guilt, rage and control issues that eat at you constantly. You’re attracted to what I offer because it feels as if it might just give you a way to deal with the madness that’s your life. I know who you are, and I’m not scared of your darkness. I don’t care about your money, and I want nothing from you. It’s a win-win as far as you’re concerned. We have intense raw sexual chemistry, there’s no denying it. And if sex is all you’re after, well...” she smirked at him confidently, “you’ll find _no one better than me to give it to you.”_

“You’re that good?”

She laughed now, and this time it was utterly sinful. 

“What do you think, Wayne? Have you ever had a woman make you _beg_ for it? Made you come so hard, you pass out from the sheer exhaustion and pleasure of it? Ridden you so hard, that you pop like a bottle of warm champagne, only to do it all over again? And again? And again? Until you’re so sore and spent and _fucking done_ that you can’t move, can’t even beg for a reprieve?”

He felt his entire body come alive and he didn’t know how he’d moved so quickly into Faith’s space, but her wicked look had him more than willing to admit that he desperately wanted her to do that _to_ him. 

_With him._

_For him._

_**All that and then some.** _

“What about _you_ , Faith?” He taunted. “Have you ever had a man bring you to the edge so many times your voice box is sore from overuse? Have you ever had a man worship every inch of you, finding all the exact, perfect spots that make you whimper with need?” He took another step closer as he forged on. “Filling you up so perfectly...hitting that place deep inside you just right? That your whole body shakes with yearning and burns you up from the sheer unadulterated pleasure that comes just before you fall over into that abyss? Leaves you there for hours, on the precipice—until you plead for relief?”

He could see his words were having an effect, as Faith’s nostrils flared and her eyes were almost black with raw hunger. 

“And you can do that, Wayne?”

_Oh, yes he could..._

“What do you think, Gorgeous? Do you think I could make you beg, plead and scream with need?”

“I think...” she paused for effect, “I’d really like to see you try, Handsome.”

_**Game on...** _

He lifted her up and Faith immediately wrapped her legs around his waist as took his stairs two at a time, not giving her a chance to back out of whatever this was. He’d give her a contract if that was what she wanted...fuck! He’d sign anything right about now if that was what it took, but at this moment? 

He wasn’t going to waste another minute talking. 

He needed to bury himself between her thighs and make her scream for him.

_When the fuck did he turn into this person?_


	9. Setting Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce wakes up the next morning to an empty bed.

The sun streaming through the window of his Penthouse, saw Bruce waking up with a groan of pained satisfaction. He cracked his right eye open and squinted at the incoming light, as he instinctively reached for the other side of his bed and found it, surprisingly empty. Gingerly pulling his sore body upwards, he frowned when he noted that the woman he’d spent the better part of yesterday and last night fucking into oblivion, wasn’t laying next to him this morning. 

He flopped back down with a loud exhausted groan, as every muscle—including the one between his legs—was utterly sore and completely spent. 

Then he felt his face cracking into a pleased wolffish grin, as he remembered _everything_ that had transpired in the last eighteen or so hours. 

Faith hadn’t been kidding, bluffing, nor bragging when she said she could ride him and make him pop like warm champagne. He’d come so many times last night, he’d lost count somewhere after the sixth. He didn’t even _know_ , that it was possible to stimulate the actual _sensation_ of orgasm without ejaculation. 

That thing she’d done with her fingers and mouth around his dick as she stimulated his prostrate for over an hour, had him begging for release...

...and Bruce Wayne _never_ begged...

“Fucking hell!” He groaned again, rolling over onto his stomach and covering his head with his pillow. 

“Good _morning_ , Master Wayne.”

Another muffled groan sounded, as Alfred fully walked into the room with a tray of breakfast which included a protein shake, a poached egg, toast and a cup of coffee.

Taking in the state of the room, Alfred inwardly smirked to himself. He had a fairly good idea what his charge had gotten up to the night before, especially if the scrap of torn lace by the end of the bed was any indication. 

He set the tray down and picked up what must’ve passed for underwear, with the end of his pen, before he queried with wry amusement, “Your guest left these last night. Should we have them laundered and return them, _Sir?”_

Bruce groaned for a third time, rolling back over and peeking up at the item Alfred was hanging over him. Eyes widening, he snatched it out of midair and glared at his butler. 

“That _won’t_ be necessary, Alfred.”

“Of course not, Master Wayne. Breakfast is on your side table, if you can manage to drag yourself out of bed. Should I get you some pain relievers?”

“That might not be a bad idea,” he sighed, “and why do I think you’re enjoying this _way_ too much, Alfred?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Master Wayne.”

Alfred smirked at him though, as he quietly left to get the medicine out of the bathroom before exiting the room, leaving him staring after Alfred with incredulity. 

_Since when did Alfred, have a sense of humor?_

He then reached for his phone and dialed the number of the one person he’d wanted to see this morning, and didn’t know whether to be impressed or irritated, that she’d left at some point last night. 

How had she found the energy to walk out of here?

Much less get on her motorcycle and head back across Gotham?

Thankfully she picked up on the third ring, her voice far too cheerful for so early. 

“You’re _alive_ ,” she snarked, “ _pity_. I suppose I didn’t do my job right last night. It’s not even noon yet.”

He glanced over at his clock, and groaned for the upteenth time that morning. 

_Shit_! 

It was after ten. 

He had a meeting at Wayne Enterprises at one. 

He grabbed the scrap of lace and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply and taking in the sweet musky scent of the woman on the phone...

...and _smiled_. 

“I have your panties here, Miss Lehane. You left them in your haste to leave me last night.”

“It was dark, and I don’t mind going commando when the mood strikes.”

His smile widened, and then he chuckled deeply. 

“Alfred found them this morning.”

There was a heartbeat of silence and then a rich gale of husky laughter floated over the phone, the sound carefree and sexy. He found himself laughing genuinely along with Faith, realizing belatedly that he hadn’t laughed like that in...

...well, _forever_...

“Do I need to apologize to the poor man?”

“No, I think it made his year, actually.” He snickered. “But _seriously_ , Gorgeous. _Why_ did you leave?”

A small sigh got through, and he waited patiently for Faith to speak, which she did after a moment. 

“I’d rather not complicate things, Wayne. I’d meant what I said yesterday.”

“About a contract?”

“And an NDA.”

“Shit, Faith. Is that _really_ going to be necessary?”

“Yes. While I might not be rebound girl, I’m pretty sure I’m not future girl either. That spot apparently is reserved for Rachel Dawes, and I’d rather not get my signals crossed, if that’s alright with you.”

He really didn’t know how she could be so nonchalant about this, especially after last night. He’d never had a woman, not even Rachel, be so aloof when it came to physical intimacy. 

It was hard not to feel like he was the one being used. 

But he knew that wasn’t the case. 

Faith truly wanted nothing from him other than his body apparently, and he should feel alright with that. 

_So why was it bothering him so much?_

“You seemed surprised.” She said evenly. 

“Frankly, I think I _am_.”

“But you didn’t deny it, either.”

He sighed again. “Because I’m not sure I can. I _won’t_ lie to you, Faith.”

“Wow, Wayne—I suppose the right answer is to say, thanks. Most men are fairly good at lying to themselves, especially when sex is involved. It’s kinda refreshing, if I’m being honest. Not that I really expected any different.”

There was a heartbeat of silence and he decided a change of subject was best. 

“So, Saturday?”

“What about it?”

“You’re still going to be my date for the evening, correct?”

“I said I’d go, and apparently I’m a Slayer of my _word_.”

His gazed up at the ceiling, as he considered his next words carefully. “I can have a dress sent over, if you like.”

“No thank you,” her voice suddenly turned cold, “the day I need you to buy me something, is the day this thing _ends_.”

That had him sitting up with a heavy frown, ignoring his body’s protests. 

“That’s _harsh_.” His voice held a tinge of hurt. 

“And? I’m not a paid whore, Wayne.”

“Faith...” he growled in his Batman voice, as he was starting to get pissed off, “That’s _uncalled_ for.”

“Hence the contract.”

“You’re really not going to let that go, are you?”

“No. You want me in your bed? Draw something up that stipulates what you expect. But know this now, I won’t be accepting any handouts, nor will I be your beck and call girl.”

“I would never ask that.”

“ _Sure_.” 

“God, you’re **infuriating**!”

“So I’ve been told. You’re just not used to not calling all the shots. I told you I like control, Wayne. It’s not just in the bedroom, either.”

“No, I can see that.” He paused, fiddling with the sheets Faith had been wrapped in last night, and then took a deep inhale of the remnants of her perfume, closing his eyes in bliss. “This, what we are doing, is new for me, Faith. I’m not used to it.”

“Too much?”

“No, Gorgeous—it wasn’t. It was...”

“ _Fucking fantastic.”_

He chuckled and nodded to himself, but his voice was indulgent as he hummed and admitted, “It was _amazing_.”

“I aim to please.”

“And you did so, _impeccably_.” Sitting up fully, he reached for the protein shake that Alfred had left him and chugged it in a single go, as he was rather parched.   
  
“The gala starts at seven in the evening. Shall I pick you up?” He set the glass back down on the tray and went to reach for the cup of coffee, but stopped himself at Faith’s next words.

“No, I’ll meet you there and if you’re a _good_ boy? I might be persuaded to let you take me back to yours for a repeat of last night.”

“Really?”

“Sure. As long as you have something for me to sign when I get there.”

He flopped down again on the bed with a snort. “Vixen. However, I’m fairly certain I can have something drafted by then.”

“See, Wayne? Negotiating has its perks.”

He laughed again. 

“I’ll see you Saturday, Gorgeous.”

“Count on it, _stud_.”

And the phone went dead, leaving him feeling...

... _somewhat unsettled._..

And he wasn’t exactly sure why.

Getting himself up he grabbed his coffee and went to get showered and dressed for the day, as he had a meeting to get to with Lucius. Lau was coming in from Hong Kong soon, and while the meeting was initially set for tomorrow, Lau had requested to reschedule for mid-next week. 

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t be prepared.

They had a bad guy to catch!


	10. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the gala arrives, and Bruce makes more than one startling discovery.

Saturday evening came rather quickly, and Bruce had found himself over the past 48 hours, thinking non-stop about Faith and her rather unconventional handling of this dance they were doing. The more time he’d spent thinking about it, the more bothered he’d become. Especially when he’d sat down and drafted up the contract she’d insisted upon. He’d set out a template, added things as he thought of them over the past day and a half...and then amended it twice.

What he’d been left with made him feel a bit uncomfortable....

_No, that wasn’t the word..._

He was fairly used to having no strings sex, but it never really lasted more than the causal one-off. He’d believed in his heart he’d known where his future likely belonged—or at least he had, until Rachel started dating Dent.

And it left him in this quagmire limbo that left him feeling...off.

_Then he’d met Faith..._

And suddenly, he felt more alive than he could ever remember feeling.

That thought had sobered him up a bit, and being the quintessential king of denial that he was? 

He’d decided to table his emotions for the time being. 

So here he was, inside Gotham’s Museum, dressed in black tie and no Faith on his arm. 

It was seven-thirty and she’d promised she’d be here—but he had to wonder if she was having second thoughts. 

He definitely wasn’t, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. 

He’d just grabbed a glass of watered down single malt, when he noticed Rachel heading his way—firmly ensconced on Harvey Dent’s arm. 

Settling his features in a cool mask of indifference, he waited for them to approach. 

“Bruce!” Rachel’s melodious voice, so unlike Faith’s, called out to him. 

“Rachel.”

He could see her brief flash of confusion, as she glanced around to see where his date might be at. 

He was beginning to wonder if he’d been stood up. 

Now, that would’ve definitely been a _first_...he thought to himself.

“Bruce, this is Harvey Dent.”

Bruce held out his hand for the man to shake, which he did...a bit more firmly than necessary. 

“So, you’re the famous, Bruce Wayne. Rachel’s told me all about you.”

“I certainly hope not.” He deadpanned, smiling slightly to take the sting out of his words. Rachel laughed awkwardly, while Harvey eyed him like he wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. 

“Where’s your date, Bruce?” Rachel asked politely and he took a measured sip of his scotch to delay answering her question, then he noticed John Daggett approaching with a few people he didn’t recognize. 

“Bruce!”

“John.”

The two men shook hands and then Daggett gestured to the two people he was with. “I wanted to introduce you to Sergei Nemerov, the head of the Moscow Ballet and his principal ballerina, Natasha Grinkova.”

He smiled politely in greeting, while Rachel gushed at the two of them. 

“Oh, how wonderful!” Rachel cooed, and Daggett eyed her skeptically, but made the proper introductions to both she and Dent anyway. 

“It is lovely to meet you both.” Natasha said, with a thick Russian accent. 

“Thank you. I’m _so_ looking forward to the performances starting! Harvey and I have tickets for opening night.”

He stiffened slightly at that, but didn’t comment as he took another sip of his drink. Daggett was asking him something, when the man’s voice fell away completely, and Bruce noticed his eyes widening at something behind him—when John whispered out in awe, “ _Who is she?”_

Bruce turned around and nearly dropped his tumbler, as he gaped at the goddess standing at the top of the steps leading into the main area. She was dressed in a simple, black, floor length velvet figure-hugging gown, that dipped between her breasts enticingly. There was even a slit up the length of her left leg, that showed just the right amount of smooth, tanned skin that he just _knew_ smelled of vanilla, spice and musk. Her hair was pulled in long waves to the side, and her makeup was dramatic. 

Smoky eye, ruby red lipstick... _fuck me heels.._.

_**Damn! He was getting hard just looking at her.** _

It was then he’d noticed pretty much every male in the room looking her way, but her dark brown doe eyes were fixated solely on him, a small wicked smirk curving her lips upward. Her sharp gaze then raked down his body unabashedly. The tip of her tongue came out and smoothed along her upper lip, causing his gut to clench with need, while he heard both Daggett and Dent’s sharp intakes of breath...

...causing him to _smirk_ right back. 

“Excuse me for a moment? It would seem my lovely date has finally arrived.”

He sauntered over with purpose, and Faith was watching him closely. When he finally got to the base of the stairs, he lifted an eyebrow, as she gracefully stepped down and took his waiting hand.

“You’re fucking _gorgeous_.” He whispered into her ear lowly, earning another wicked look. “That’s a _very_ lovely necklace.”

“Thanks. It’s the only thing I have left of my mom.” She paused, and then said pointedly, “You look pretty good yourself, Wayne.”

He chuckled, leading her back to his little group, inwardly grinning at Rachel’s unhappy scowl. His breath hitched however, when he placed his hand on Faith’s lower back and instantly felt smooth warm skin and registered—there was absolutely no back of her dress to be found. 

Fuck! 

Her dress was completely backless.

“Someone doesn’t look none too happy?” She purged him from his less than appropriate thoughts, and he hummed thoughtfully. 

“No she doesn’t, does she?”

“Mission accomplished?” She asked evenly, causing him to side-eye her with a furrowed brow. 

“Do you think that’s why I asked you here tonight?”

She glanced up at him coquettishly, as she drawled out in amusement, “ _Wasn’t it?”_

He didn’t get a chance to answer however, because they’d reached their destination. 

“Just who is this _beauty_ , Wayne?” Daggett grinned in welcome. 

“John Daggett, this is Faith Lehane.”

“Enchanted, my dear.” John took Faith’s proffered hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of her knuckles, which had Bruce’s hackles rising, while Faith seemed bemused. When the introduction with Rachel happened—Faith didn’t give away a single emotion, but Rachel looked as if she’d bit into something sour.

“So? What do you do, Faith?” Rachel asked, with a clearly fake smile on her face.

“I work for an International Security Firm out of London.”

“Oh? Would I know them?”

“It’s highly unlikely. We don’t work in the public sector. Private contracts. I’m sure you understand, yes?”

Faith’s eyes glinted mischievously, while Bruce just quirked a lopsided smirk. 

Then the introduction to Sergei and Natasha happened, and Bruce sat back and watched the scene unfold with interest. 

“Have you ever been to the ballet, Miss Lehane?” Sergei asked, his sharp gaze focused on Faith intently. 

“Goodness, no! Not that it’s any reflection on the art form. I’ve just never had the time.” 

“Nor the inclination, I’m sure.” Rachel murmured under her breath, but Faith heard it. 

So did he.

He shot Rachel an unamused scowl, which had her turning her head away in embarrassment.

Faith ignored the barb and turned to Natasha, asking curiously, “What part of Russia are you from originally, Natasha?”

“Kiev.”

“Oh, really? My Mother’s family was Russian.”

“Oh?” Sergei interrupted, as he glanced at Faith’s neck briefly, but Bruce caught it. “Do you know what part of Russia your family originally hailed from?”

“St. Petersburg. At least, that was where my Great-Grandmother was born, according to my Mother.”

“Interesting. Do you speak the mother-tongue?”

“YA nemnogo rzhavyy, no ya starayus' podderzhivat' svoi navyki.” 

(I am a bit rusty, but I try to keep my skills up)

Bruce noted Rachel’s face paling slightly, while Harvey and John were nothing but impressed. 

“Chudesno! (Wonderful!)...your Russian is quite good, my dear. I couldn’t help but notice that lovely heirloom necklace you are wearing.”

Faith touched it unthinkingly as she nodded. “It was my Mother’s. According to her, it belonged to my prababushka.”

“I see!” Sergei hummed thoughtfully. “What was her name, do you know?”

“Tasia.”

Sergei paled slightly, and Bruce could see the man’s hand shaking too, as he cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“Unusual,” Sergei commented lowly before he inquired, “was that her given name?”

“Nickname, I believe. Her given name was Anastasia.”

Sergei smiled stiffly, but he could tell the man was struggling. Faith too, seemed perplexed, but then Daggett asked something and the conversation changed. He excused himself and Faith, deciding they should mingle, but throughout the night—he felt Sergei’s weighted stare on them both, as they moved around the room. 

After a while, Faith needed to use the powder room, and left him on his own. He made the decision to seek out Sergei, to see if he could find out what had disturbed the man so.

“Mr. Nemerov? Do you have a moment?”

The older man nodded warily, so he politely gestured towards a more private part of the museum floor. 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Wayne?”

“Please forgive me if this seems a bit forward, but you seemed to be upset earlier when you were talking with my date. Do you _know_ her?”

Sergei shook his head. “No.” He paused briefly and then went on to ask, “How long have you been acquainted with Miss Lehane?”

“Not too long. We’ve just started seeing each other.”

“I see.” The man was looking everywhere else but him, which made him realize something was definitely up. 

“I noticed that you were interested in Faith’s necklace. Have you seen it before?”

The man paled heavily and he immediately felt all his senses go on high alert. 

“I...” he cleared his throat a few times, and his hands were shaking again as he gripped them and twisted them together. “You must understand, Mr. Wayne. This is an _extremely_ delicate matter.”

“How so? You don’t think Faith stole that necklace, do you?”

“ _Heavens, no!” The_ answer was emphatic, and he heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Then what is it?”

“Mr. Wayne, I’m sure a gentleman of your background is aware of the old Russian nobility?”

“Yes, the Romanov family.”

“Yes...yes...you see, my brother worked for the Soviet Secret Police. Back in 1979, the Soviet government claimed that they’d discovered the remains of the Romanov family. All of them. In 1991, they claimed that DNA testing proved beyond a shadow of a doubt, that those remains were that of Czar Nicholas II and his family.”

“I remember reading about that, but what does that have to do with Faith?”

“You see, Mr. Wayne...the government _lied_. The remains they found were indeed that of Nicolay, his wife, son and daughters...but one of the daughters was missing from the discovery. Can you guess which one?”

His face paled in horror. “ _Anastasia_.”

“Yes. My brother told me the truth before he died. He was the one tasked to falsify the information.”

“Why?”

“Because inside the Swiss National Bank, the remaining fortune of the Romanov family resides. It is estimated to be worth billions in today’s market. The Soviet and now Russian government, wanted the money returned to them, and they gave the falsified documentation to the Head of Bank Suisse, Karl Stroessner, and demanded the funds be released.”

“Did he do it?”

“No. He refused.”

“Why?”

“Because a couple years prior to the DNA report, Karl received a letter from a man who claimed that he knew where the last of the Romanov family was located. And he had proof.”

“What proof?”

“A necklace had been commissioned for young Anastasia for her sixteenth birthday. She was never photographed wearing it, at least not publicly, but there is a portrait of her in the Hermitage wearing the necklace.”

“The one Faith is wearing?”

“I believe so. If it is not the original, it is a fabulous rendition.”

“Shit.” He said emotively, as he ran both hands down his face. 

Sergei chuckled. “That was my reaction as well.”

“Is she in danger?”

“That I can’t say for certain. If she truly is the Romanov Heiress, there is a chance the Russian government may try and have her killed, if they think they can get their hands on the money. There is an expiration date, according to documents filed with Bank Suisse.”

“When?”

“2011. Twenty years after the initial fraudulent DNA was submitted.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, but it did answer a few questions he had about why Faith’s mother had been killed. 

“Thank you for telling me this, and I will keep this confidential. Please do not speak of this, Sergei.”

“Of course, Mr. Wayne. If it does turn out to be true, the shock will be felt all over the world.”

“I can just imagine that will only be secondary to Faith’s reaction.”

Sergei chuckled again, and then stiffened—and he suddenly realized that Faith was approaching them. 

“There you are! I thought you’d ditched me.”

“Never.” He grinned, taking her arm, and placing it firmly within his. “Sergei and I were just talking about the ballet. Would you care to go?”

“Seriously?” 

“I think you would enjoy it immensely, Miss Lehane.” Sergei winked playfully. “We are doing a traditional rendition of Swan Lake.”

“That was my Mom’s favorite. Tchaikovsky, right?”

He grinned and Sergei clapped his hands and nodded profusely. “It is! See? You _must_ come! As my guests of course!”

“I can’t say no to that, right?”

Bruce shook his head and quipped back, “Not a chance.”

“Great! Ballet time it is!”

All three were laughing when Rachel found them. “Bruce. There you are! I was just talking to the Mayor and he asked me to come find you.”

“Duty calls.” He replied with an apologetic tone. “I’ll be back in a bit. Why don’t you get a glass of champagne and meet me near the front in about ten minutes? Then we can head back to mine?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He sauntered away, and Sergei was then waylaid by Natasha soon after, who wanted her mentor to come and meet the Head Curator for the new Russian exhibit coming in the fall. When he was gone, Faith was left with Rachel—who seemed intent on a confrontation. 

“So? You and Bruce?”

Faith smirked, but didn’t reply as she grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter with a nod of thanks. 

“Why don’t you ask me what you _really_ want to know, Miss Dawes. Subtext bores me.”

“Fine. I only feel it’s fair to warn you, that Bruce doesn’t do relationships.”

“You feel the need to warn me of something I _already_ know? How kind of you.”

Rachel blanched. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not looking to step on your toes, even though I think it’s pretty screwed up of you to warn me off Bruce, when you’re obviously getting it on with the new DA. Is Dent a glorified place filler?”

Rachel’s expression darkened with fury and embarrassment, but her words were filled with disdain as she hissed out, “You don’t _know_ what you’re talking about. You don’t know Bruce, nor me.”

Faith took a sip of her champagne, grimaced and set it back down on another serving tray that passed by. “If that helps you sleep at night, but you might be wrong about a few of your assumptions. I do know about Bruce’s nocturnal activities. _All of them.”_

At this confession, Rachel gasped and her eyes widened in disbelief. 

“He would’ve _never_ told you that.”

“Who do you think helped him take out the Chechen and Crane? You didn’t think he did that all on his little lonesome, did you?”

“Who _are_ you?”

“I’m not someone to be trifled with.” Faith bit back, her expression darkening ominously. “And for the record, the only thing I’m using Wayne for, is his more than stellar bedroom skills. Far be it fair, for the man to abstain, while you’re getting your freak on with Dent. That’s kinda hypocritical, if you think about it.”

Rachel went to slap her, but she gripped her hand out of midair so fast, it made the other woman gasp in shock. 

“This is the only free pass you’re going to get. You raise a hand to me again and I’ll break it in two. I don’t give a fuck if you’re the quasi fucked up love of Bruce’s life, because from where I stand, the man deserves better than a half assed commitment from someone who doesn’t have the balls to stand beside him and fight the good fight.”

She dropped Rachel’s hand, just as Bruce walked back to where they were, his expression thunderous. 

“What’s going on here?”

“Your new friend threatened me.” Rachel demanded hotly, her body shaking with agitation. 

Bruce turned blistering hazel eyes to her, as he growled out, “Is this _true_ , Faith?”

“Pretty much. In my defense though, she did raise her hand to me first. It’s not my fault the chick can’t land a decent slap. Sue me, Wayne.”

“Rachel?”

“You know me, Bruce? Does that really sound like something I’d do?”

She just chuckled and took a step back, shaking her head. “You’re _good_. Lawyer, right? Aren’t your kind, trained to lie?”

“Faith?” Bruce hissed in warning, “You’re _totally_ out of bounds.”

“You know what, Wayne? You’re right, and I’m so _outta_ here.” She huffed in irritation. “You two kinda deserve each other.” She walked past Bruce and said lowly, so only he could hear. “Next time you try and use someone to make this loser jealous, _keep me out of it._ I don’t play those kind of games and I have no time for this kind of nonsense. I have a Joker to find and take out.”

He instinctively went to reach for her arm, but her hand shot out just as quickly and turned his hand under hers...so he was brought up alongside her body, even as she glared up at him in disappointment. 

Her voice however, came out in abject disgust, “Your kind? _You’re all the same.”_

“Faith...”

Dropping his hand as if it had burnt her, she strode confidently away—not sparing a backwards glance. She walked right past Daggett, who called out her name as she began to head towards the exit. 

“Miss Lehane, are you _leaving_ so soon?”

“That was the plan, Mr. Daggett.”

“Can I drop you off somewhere?”

She beamed. “Why, thank you...kind Sir! That would be simply lovely.”

Bruce watched stunned, as his date left on the arm of John Daggett, and he couldn’t help but notice a few people staring his way and whispering to each other. He then turned ice cold hazel eyes to his best friend and gritted out caustically, “Did you try and assault her, Rachel?”

“Bruce...”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes. But she told me...”

He held his hand up to cut her off. 

“We’re _done_ here, Rachel. I can’t believe I ever allowed myself to think you had my best interests at heart.”

“She told me she’s helping you. Was she lying?”

“No.”

“And she knows?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you tell her?” She whispered lowly. “If what she said is true, why would you expose yourself to someone you barely know?”

“As opposed to someone I’ve known my whole life, who couldn’t handle the truth and then bailed on me when it all got to be too much?”

“That’s not how it went, Bruce—and you know it.”

“Do I? All I know is that I’ve sat back and waited for over two years for you to come back to me. To stand with me, and instead... _you_ _chose Dent_. And I was a fool for thinking we could ever find our way back to each other after everything that’s happened. We’re not the same people we once were, Rachel—and this..” he waved his hand between the two of them in defeat... “ _I don’t want this anymore.”_

“You don’t mean that, Bruce.”

“Yeah, I really think I do.” He sighed, feeling a rush of relief as if a huge weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me? I have someone I need to go find, and grovel to. She’ll probably kick my ass before she accepts my apology, but I’d deserve it.”

Rachel watched in shocked dismay as Bruce left her standing there, as he rushed out of the museum and out of her life. 


	11. Rock My World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce shares with Faith his discovery.

True to his word, John Daggett dropped her off at her apartment, kissed her hand goodbye and asked if he might call on her soon, since it appeared she was finished with Gotham’s biggest playboy. 

Faith had smiled, thanked him for bringing her home and in a rare act of defiance, handed the man her phone number and left with a saucy wink for good measure. 

However, as she started to walk into her apartment building, her phone started ringing. Looking down, she noticed the caller ID light up—causing her to hit ‘ _end_ ’ with relish.

Apparently though, Bruce Wayne wasn’t one to be deterred, as he called again...and again...and _again_...

After the sixth time she’d hit the end button, he _finally_ left a voicemail. 

She stood in the apartment lobby, and hit the #1 button, listening to his message playback...

_**Faith...please pick up. I’m so, so sorry. I need to talk to you. Please pick up. I’m on my way to your apartment and I swear to God, if you’re not there and off somewhere with Daggett, I’m going to go all corporate raider and buy his company and then ruin the man.** _

That comment earned a rare soft smile. 

_**I’m an idiot. And a fool. And so many other things, but would you just pick up your fucking phone and talk to me? Or better yet, call me?** _

The message ended and she stood there with her finger hovering over the send button, when she heard Bruce’s Lamborghini revving down the street likely going at least 100 miles per hour. 

When she glanced out the glass doors of the building, his signature car pulled up, tires squealing, and his door flew open as he stormed out of the car...slamming it shut. He stopped in his tracks however, when he saw her standing there in the lobby, staring at him. 

He held out his hand in a silent plea, and she sighed and nodded to the security guard before making her way back out of the building. When she got within a foot of the dipshit, she lifted a condescending eyebrow and bit out waspishly, “I should knock you unconscious.”

“You should.” He replied sheepishly, his hand dropping back to his side.

“Was that what you’d _hoped_ would happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, when you figure it out, Wayne...”

“Faith! Will you _shut up and let me talk?”_

Her flabbergasted expression gave him the opening he needed, so he forged ahead. 

“I would’ve liked to have had this conversation in private. Will you come with me back to my place, and if you don’t like what I have to say, you can leave and we can call this good.”

“And is that what you want? To call it good?”

“No.”

“What do you want, Wayne?”

“ _You_.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I want you... _only_ you. You were right. About all of it. I couldn’t see it, because I was too blinded by the past and my desire for whom Rachel and I used to be. I missed the simplicity of what we used to have, and I’d mistakenly thought maybe once Gotham was free? I could have that again.”

“And what made you change your mind?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes. For the first time since I was a young boy, I feel _fucking alive, and_ I feel that when I’m with you. I can’t explain it, but you make me laugh and give me hope that I can actually explore myself and it be okay.”

“You mean, to be both parts of yourself equally?”

“Yes.” He grinned. “You don’t favor one over the other. You seem to like them both, yes?”

“I kinda do. Sue me.”

“Then come home with me.”

“I don’t know, Wayne...” her voice was belabored, as she sighed in faux distress, “I had a _really nice offer_ from John Daggett. He asked me out and everything...so maybe I should...”

She didn’t get out another word, because Bruce took her into his arms and crushed his lips onto hers in a demanding kiss. She felt her entire body capitulate to his onslaught, and she sighed happily into the kiss. When they both finally broke for air, Bruce growled out in his Batman voice, “ _That’s fucking not going to happen.”_

“Oh?”

“No.” He glared back in challenge. 

She stared up into his fierce, uncompromising expression and grinned. 

“If you insist.”

“I _do_. I also insist you come home with me now, so I can tear this dress off you and fuck you senseless.”

“You like my dress?”

“I’ve been half hard all night, you little vixen.”

“Well, I am going commando.” 

Bruce groaned and lifted his head, mumbling out something that sounded an awful lot like, ‘ _fucking hell.’_

“What’s the magic word, Wayne?”

“Please, Gorgeous. _Please_ come home with me?”

“Fine, handsome. But only cause you begged so nicely.”

He chuckled and immediately led her to the passenger side of his car, putting her inside carefully—before rushing around to the drivers side and then helping her buckle in.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and then kissed her deeply, an affection she returned with equal fervor. 

“You’re welcome.” She whispered back breathlessly when she broke the kiss, and then smiled softly as Bruce started up his car and took off like a bat, back into the night. 

He got back to his Penthouse in record time too, and once they were in the elevator, he pushed his body into hers and kissed her with so much aggression, she thought she might literally combust right there between the tenth and twenty-fifth floors. 

He gripped her left leg with his right hand and pulled it around his waist, bringing their bodies fully flush so she could feel every damn inch of his erection through his dress slacks, and she thought she might lose it. 

“Fuck me, Bruce... _now!”_ She demanded, using her right hand to unzip his trousers, tugging his boxers down, while he lifted up her dress out of the way and thrust home. 

“Fucking hell!” He snarled, his hips began to slam into her body, showing no quarter. 

The back of her head hit the elevator wall, as she pleaded, “Harder! Fuck me _harder_ , Bruce!”

His deep, pained groan was music to her ears and he pushed so hard into her, she yelped in shock and then moaned out in bliss. 

Then he bit into her neck, sucking so hard on her pulse point...

...that _she fucking lost it._

Her scream reverberated throughout the elevator, just as Bruce’s body tensed and shuddered...his desperate snarl of her name was secondary to the fact that his release was so overwhelming, she could literally feel it rushing down her thighs from where they were joined. 

“Holy fuck!” She panted out, just as the elevator door opened to his Penthouse. He pulled out of her before readjusting himself, then lifted her into his arms bridal style, carrying her upstairs into his room. 

“Where’s my contract?” She demanded cheekily and Bruce snorted and replied in a tone that brokered no argument, “ _Fuck the contract, Faith.”_

“Bruce...”

“No! _Not tonight._ If you still feel you need it tomorrow we will discuss it then, but not tonight.”

“You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

She bit her lip and gazed up into stormy hazel eyes and for the first time in a very long time, she felt a twinge of fear. 

And it was fucking _exhilarating_. 

“Make me.” She baited saucily, and Bruce’s face darkened even more before he gripped both hands on her dress and _**tore**_...

“Bruce!” 

“I’ll buy you another! I’ll buy you a closet full and you’ll let me, _because I’m not letting you go,_ so deal with it.” 

She stared up at him in shock, her eyes wide and unsure. 

“You’re _serious_?” She whispered in disbelief. 

“I am.”

“You can’t be?” She took a hesitant step back and shook her head. “ _You just can’t be..”_

“Why not?”

“Because...” she took another wary step back.

Bruce’s expression shifted to confusion, as he titled his head and asked, “ _Because why?”_

She didn’t know what to say. 

How do you say the words that basically equate to ‘ _a man like you would never want a woman like me long term._ ’ 

She was a nobody, a blip on the radar of life. 

He was Bruce Wayne...

“Faith?” He growled. “ _Why would you think that I wouldn’t be serious?”_

“ _ **Because!”**_ She yelled out in dismay. “You’re Bruce fucking Wayne, and I’m just....me...a _nobody_...” her voice fell away.

Bruce sighed and pulled her back into his embrace before resettling them on the end of his bed so he could kiss her softly. He then gazed down at her neck and noticed the necklace there, and sighed. He didn’t want whatever this was between them to start with secrets, but he was afraid if he told Faith the truth...she might think the only reason he went after her was because of what Sergei had told him. 

_What a cluster fuck!_

“What is it?” She asked lowly, seeing his expression change. 

“Look...before we take this towards where I’m desperately hoping we will go...I need to be completely honest with you, because I don’t want there to be secrets between us, agreed?”

“Okay. That’s always a good idea.”

His lips quirked up slightly, before his expression shifted again. 

“First, I want to tell you that what you said the other day had a profound affect on me. When you said I’ve seen things no one should have to see? You were _right_. I saw my parents killed in front of me, but what I’ve never told another living soul—except Alfred—was their deaths were my fault.”

“What? But you were just a kid!”

“I was. The night they were killed we went to the Opera to see Mefistofele, and I freaked out. I had fallen into a well on my family property and had been attacked by hundreds of bats. It left me terrified of them, and that Opera fed into that terror, so much so...I begged my parents to leave the theatre early and take me home—which they did. They were killed by a mugger.”

“And you felt responsible?”

“I still do.”

“Okay, I can understand that.”

“That’s why I chose the mantle of Batman. I wanted the criminals in Gotham to share my dread. To feel the same pain I’d felt when I lost my parents. The anger, rage and guilt eat at me constantly and something tells me you know how that feels too?”

Faith bit her lip and averted her gaze, but Bruce tilted her chin back towards him and rubbed his thumb on her cheek soothingly. “You can trust me, Faith. I promise, that whatever you tell me? I’ll hold it sacred.”

“You _know_ , don’t you? Did you have me researched?”

“I did. But you already knew that.”

“And what did you discover.”

“Your Dad killed your mom, and then shot himself.”

“And?”

“And if I’m right, you witnessed the entire thing and ran.”

She nodded and took in a deep breath, desperately trying to keep her emotions in check—which was harder than she thought it’d be. 

“Got it in one.” She whispered out in raw pain. 

“Do you remember what they were fighting about?”

“Yes. I remember all of it. I know some people block that shit out, but I’ve never been able to.”

“So?”

“My loser sperm donor was screaming at my mom to tell him where it was at. That he’d seen it, and he knew she still had it but it wasn’t where she’d left it.”

“Do you know what ‘ **it** ’ was?”

“No. He’d never said. When she refused, he said he was going to take me and that would prove he was right and he didn’t need it when he had me. She screamed at him and pleaded for him not to do whatever it was he was planning. That we would be in danger if he did.”

“But he didn’t listen, did he?”

“No. He grabbed his gun and threatened her with it. She tried to take it away and the gun went off. She was shot in the stomach and he just lost it. Screamed and pleaded with her to tell him where it was. She refused...and...and,” Faith inhaled a deep breath trying to reign in her emotions, “when she collapsed onto the floor, she turned her head she saw me cowering under the bed. Then I heard the neighbor pounding on our door, yelling that he’d called the police and they were on their way, which distracted my Dad. My Mom whispered to me to take the tin box hidden inside the mattress and run to the graveyard where my babushka was buried, and bury it where no one would find it. Then I heard him screaming for me. Then there were police sirens and then they were banging on the door. When I heard his gun go off a second time, I peeked out from under the bed and saw that he’d shot himself. I put the box into my backpack and climbed down the fire escape into a neighbors open window. Luckily, they weren’t there and I snuck out their front door and when I got outside our building? The street was filled with people. It was easy to blend in and escape.”

“And this necklace was inside the box?”

“Yes.”

“When did you go back for it?”

“Before I settled in Cleveland, I went back and dug it up and thankfully, it was where I’d left it.”

“Do you think this necklace was what your Father was after?”

“Why would he be after this old thing? It’s just a piece of fake costume jewelry.”

“Oh, Gorgeous! That necklace isn’t fake. In fact, I’d stake my _entire_ fortune on that fact.”

He watched as Faith’s hand flew to the beautiful pearl and diamond collar, her eyes shining with reluctant tears. 

“ _No_!”

“Yes.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Well, despite the fact that I’m rather rich? I do believe Mr. Nemerov clued me in on this necklace’s potential origins tonight.”

“I don’t understand. How would he know anything about this?”

“Faith? Your great-grandmother? Do you have any pictures of her?”

“Yes. I have one from when she was a young girl of maybe twenty? It was in the box with the necklace.”

“Was she wearing this necklace in the photo?”

“Yes, but how did you know that?”

He lifted her up off his lap and went to grab his laptop, turning it on and clicking a few words into the search bar, when a photo popped up on the screen. He turned it towards Faith, and watched her face pale ashen in horror. 

“ _Why_ is there a picture of my prababushka on the internet?”

“ _Shit_!” He mumbled, as he now had pretty good confirmation that the woman in his bedroom, was the Grand Duchess Nickolayevna of Russia and the only living heir of Nicholas II.

“Bruce?” Faith’s voice was pleading, “Why does this say that she was assassinated in 1918? My prababushka died in Boston in 1963.”

“Faith...”

“No!” She stood and then began to pace, her eyes flitting to the screen every so often. “Are you trying to tell me, that my prababushka, was the _Anastasia_ of the Romanov family? Do you realize how utterly absurd that is?”

“Yes. But I think there’s proof that she might have been.”

“How?”

“That necklace. Sergei was fixated on it tonight and when I confronted him, he told me that necklace, was gifted to the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nickolayenva on her...”

“Sixteenth birthday.” She finished in defeat, collapsing onto the floor. 

He rushed to her, and gathered her into his arms. 

“Yes. There is a single painting of her in the Hermitage wearing this necklace apparently. It’s the only one, as she was never photographed wearing it in public. Apparently, it was likely her last official portrait before the assassinations of her family during the Bolshevik revolution.”

“And she was probably wearing it the night she escaped.”

“That was my thought too.”

“But I thought it was proven that the entire line of Romanovs were dead some time ago?”

“Sergei told me his brother worked for the Soviet Secret Police. In their desire to lay claim to the Romanov fortune that is still housed within the Swiss Bank, they lied about Anastasia’s remains. She wasn’t in the family grave, according to Sergei.”

“And you believe him?”

“I have no reason not to.”

“Fuck.” She whispered emotively, and then cocked her head at him. “Is this why you followed me?”

“I knew you’d ask me that and I was waiting for it. No, for the record. Come on, Faith? I know we don’t know each other very well, but from what you do know of me do you honestly think I’d care more about your possible royal heritage, the fact that you’re a kick ass Slayer, or the fact that you rock my world?”

Faith threw her head back and laughed outrageously, causing him to join in her mirth. He was gratified to see she didn’t think so unkindly of him, even after he’d been such a knob earlier. 

“Good point.”

“Thanks.” He deadpanned, before his face turned serious. “From what Sergei told me? The entirety of the Romanov fortune will revert back to the Russian government sometime in 2011.”

“Why?”

“They’d petitioned for it, but for reasons I think I finally understand—the head of Bank Suisse refused fo release the money in 1991, when they came forward with the DNA evidence. Sergei said Karl Stroessner, he’s the man who heads up the Bank, was somehow warned that there was evidence that Anastasia Romanova had survived, and had a descendent.”

“When?”

“Probably sometime before your parents were killed.”

“So my sperm donor figured it out?”

“That was my guess, and since he likely knew about the necklace? I think he was the one who sent a photo of it to Stroessner.”

She fiddled with her necklace, before she slowly took it off and held it gently within her hands. He could see the myriad of emotions filtering across her face before she sighed and handed it to him. He took it with reverence and held the weight of it within his palm. 

It was definitely real.

“These are real. I’m convinced of it, Gorgeous. What do you want to do?”

“Do you think my mom was right? Would we have been in danger had the truth gotten out?”

“Probably. But Faith, you’re a Slayer now, and you have the power of the IWC behind you, plus me. If you want to claim your birthright, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

She nodded distractedly as she gazed out the window, deep in thought before her mouth flattened. 

“Would they want to exhume my prababushka?”

“It’s likely. Bank Suisse supposedly has the DNA record of Nicholas II, which would be a match for Anastasia and yours. Exhuming her remains would prove she survived the assassination attempt and well...”

“No, I get it.” She sighed before she tilted her head and said hopefully, “But there’s always a chance it might not be, right?”

He chuckled and shook his head at her in wonder. “Something tells me you’d be happier if it turned out to be not true.”

“Does that make me a bad person?”

“No, Gorgeous. It makes you an _amazing_ person. One who isn’t swayed by greed, which is a rare find in this world.”

“Do you think I should?”

“Yes, but only inasmuch as sometimes secrets like this have a way of coming out when we least want them to. Sergei suspects, and that means other people might too. You’ve been off the radar due to your Slayer identity.” He paused and then turned her so she was straddling him as he set the necklace on the bed next to them. “Who wiped your past?”

She blanched at first, but she replied shakily, “A friend.”

“He must be a powerful friend.”

“He really is. He’s my _best_ friend and the only person I trust completely.”

“Oh? Should I be jealous?”

She tilted her head back in laughter again, causing him to chuckle along with her. 

“Goodness, no! He’s a vampire. With a soul.”

“What?” He whispered out in stunned shock. 

“His name is Angel. He’s been alive for hundreds of years. He runs Wolfram and Hart.”

“I’ve heard of them. Shadow private agency.”

“That deals in all things supernatural.”

“Shit.” 

“Exactly.”

“So he’d protect you?”

“With his life.”

“I’d like to meet him, if that’s alright?”

“Sure, I should call him and give him a heads up.” She then reached for the necklace and waved it between them. “How would we do this?”

“Do you trust me?”

She sighed as she gave Bruce a considering look. 

Finally she bit her lip and said softly, “I’m beginning to.”

Leaning forward, he kissed her lips with the lightest of pressure and then whispered with feeling, “That’s a good start.” 

He pulled out his phone and placed the necklace back on her—snapping a picture without Faith’s face in the photo. He then told her of his plan and when he was done, Faith sighed deeply, but she nodded in agreement. 

“Okay. Make the calls.”

He scrolled through his contacts and dialed the international number first. 

The man himself picked up on the second ring. 

“Bruce, it’s been a while. What can I do for you?”

“Hello Karl, I’m sorry to call without an appointment but something of a critical nature has popped up and I need your help.”

“Oh? And what is the issue.”

“Is this line secure?”

“Of course.”

“What I’m about to tell you, I will need your word goes no further until all the verifications are in place.”

“You know me, Bruce. I’m nothing if not discreet.”

“I know Karl, it’s just this is very personal issue for me.”

The man on the other end paused in what he’d figured was likely surprise, but being the professional Karl was—he just reiterated that he would abide the need for secrecy. 

“Thank you. Tonight I met a gentlemen here in Gotham at a fundraiser. His name is Sergei Nemerov. Are you familiar with the name?”

“Yes. The Nemerov family was quite well placed within the old Soviet regimes.”

“I was led to understand that Sergei’s brother...”

“Anatoly...”

“Yes, that he was responsible for some critical documents your bank received back in 1991.”

There was another weighted pause, but finally Karl murmured a, “Yes, he was.”

“I have also come to suspect, that the reason you refused to release those funds to the interested parties, was because you were given some vital information a few years prior? Perhaps around the end of 1989?”

“How do you _know_ this?”

“I’ll get to that in a bit. Can you tell me if you received it in the form of an anonymous photo? Perhaps of a certain necklace that was not commonly known to be in the possession of one of the original family members?”

There was a hiss, and then an excited, “Yes! Tell me Bruce, do you have this item? Or know where it came from?”

“I have more than that, Karl. If I’m right, I have sitting here with me even now, the current owner of that item.”

“Male or female?”

“Female.”

“And the original owner?”

“Buried in a cemetery here in the States.”

“ _Mon Dieu!”_

“That was my reaction as well.” He paused. “I also have access to a photo of the original owner, probably dated sometime around 1920, wearing the item in question.”

He heard the phone drop on the other end, and then he heard Karl swearing loudly before the man got back on the phone again. 

“Listen Bruce, if what you are saying is true you need to exhume the body immediately and get it on a plane out here ASAP, along with the woman in question, the necklace and the photo. I will have security meet you at the airport and bring you directly here. I can have our labs do the analysis but to be safe, hire your own team to independently confirm the DNA results. Make a copy of the photo. How quickly can you have this done?”

“Give me twelve hours to get my retrieval team to the site and exhume the remains and another twelve to get to Switzerland.”

“So tomorrow, around 9pm my time?

“Yes. I have to be back in Gotham by four o’clock on Wednesday for a board meeting.”

“It should not be a problem.” The man’s voice was excited. “And tell the young lady, I’m very much looking forward to making her formal acquaintance.”

“I’ll do that.”

“I will await for your arrival, Bruce.”

“Thank you, Karl—for everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet, young man. You can do so after we have proven what we both hope is the truth.”

“I will see you tomorrow, Karl.”

“Of course, Bruce. I will let you go.”

The phone call ended and Faith just stared at him in bemusement as she shook her head. 

“He seems really excited.” She mused.

“He really, really does.” 

He then dialed Lucius number next. 

“Mr. Wayne, what can I do for you?”

“I need you to contact Marcus and have him get an exhumation order prepared.” He then covered the phone and whispered, “Where is she interred?”

“Mt. Hope.”

“Under what name?”

“Tasia Seminova.”

“Lucius, I need a retrieval team sent to Mt. Hope cemetery within the hour, once they are there and have made contact, have Marcus fax the order to Judge Harmon. Have the team leader pick up the order directly from his home.”

“Mr. Wayne, might Marcus inquire as to the why?”

“If Marcus requires that information, I’ll tell him it’s for historical purposes. The remains, once they are ready for transport will meet the Wayne Jet at Hanscom Field. Call the pilot and file a flight plan to Boston for tomorrow morning by five am.”

“And will you be heading elsewhere, after?”

“Yes, but I will give you that information right before we leave. You will need to come with me to Boston and take possession of part of the exhumation. Have our private security firm set up transport for yourself and the item back to Gotham.”

“Will do, Sir. Anything else?”

“I need the clean lab set up. I will be coming in first thing in the morning by six am with a guest. I will let you know everything else in person tomorrow. You will need to handle this alone, Lucius.”

“Got it. I’ll call Marcus right now and the retrieval team after. Will you be calling Judge Harmon?”

“He’s my next call.”

“Very good, Sir. See you in the morning.”

He hung up the phone and noticed Faith watching him with an amused expression on her face. 

“He knows you’re Batman, doesn’t he?”

“He does. He handles most of my tech.”

“You trust him implicitly?”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

He chuckled, and then scrolled through his contacts and hit send. 

“Bruce?”

“Hey Phillip, sorry to bother you so late but I need a huge favor.”

“Of course, Bruce. What can I do for you?”

“Marcus will be faxing you an exhumation order within the hour. I’ll need you to sign it and give it to my representative, who will be picking it up by midnight.”

“Bruce? This is a bit odd. Usually you need a very good reason to exhume a body. Where is it?”

“Mt. Hope cemetery.”

“And the individual.”

“Initials are T.S.”

“You can’t give me the name?”

“Not over the phone, Phillip.”

There was a brief pause and then a belabored sigh. “How likely is this going to fall back on me?”

“Very likely, but not in a bad way, Phillip.”

“Can you guarantee it?”

“No.”

“Shit.” Another sigh and then, “You’ll owe me, Bruce.”

The man in question chuckled. “I know.”

“I’ll text you when it’s done.”

“You’re a good man, Phillip.”

“Yeah, yeah... _shit_.”

They said their goodbyes, and he set down his phone with a small smirk. 

“Helps to be rich.” Faith deadpanned, and he snorted. 

“If this pans out, you’ll be filthy rich too.”

“Just how much money we talking?”

“Billions.”

“Holy fuck!” She squeaked in shock. “That’s soooo not necessary!”

He threw his head back and laughed. “You’re completely adorable.” His expression sobered as he continued seriously, “Truly though, it belongs to you, Gorgeous.”

“Shit!”

“So, what now?”

“Did we kill the mood?”

“I don’t know, what do you think?”

She sighed. “I think I’m emotionally exhausted and as much as I’d like to fuck you right now, I just want a shower and sleep.”

He chuckled again, and hummed as he stood up and set Faith down, taking off the necklace and walking over to the far wall...pressing an invisible button and smirking when Faith’s eyes widened in shock as the door swung inward. 

“Secret room?”

“And access to the garage.”

“Cool!”

He held out his hand and led her inside where she looked around and watched him put her necklace into a safe, before he took her back out into his room and then pulled her with him into the bathroom. She then stared down at her dress with a sad sigh. 

“You’ve ruined it.”

“Is it couture?”

“Hell, no! I’m not made of money, Wayne.”

“Not yet. But seriously, I’ll replace it even if I have to hire a designer to make you an exact replica. You looked like fucking sin in it, so I wouldn’t mind having a few more made so I can rip them off you.”

Faith snorted as the dress dropped to the floor and she sashayed past him, walking into the shower that was bigger than her room back at the apartment. She gaped at all the gages, and then scoffed. “How does this shit work?”

He shook his head and undressed before joining her, as he pressed a key code and the water jets as well as the rain shower started shooting out perfectly warm water. 

They took their time cleaning each other, interspersed with heated kisses and firm touches. Once they were done, Faith wrapped herself in a towel and grabbed her dress. 

“Are you going to take me back to my place?”

“No, you’re _staying here.”_

“Bruce..”

“Don’t. You’re staying with me.”

“Jerk.”

“Yes, now cuddle under the comforter, my stubborn Slayer.”

She surprisingly, did as told and sighed at how heavenly Bruce’s sheets felt. 

“These are awesome.”

He spooned her naked form into his and hummed happily. “Sleep, Gorgeous.”

“M’kay.”


	12. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Faith make arrangements to leave for Zurich.

Bruce hadn’t slept a wink, but Faith hadn’t had that problem at all. She’d gone out the minute her head hit the pillow. Phillip had texted him about one am with the message, ‘ _done_ ’ and he knew that his people were on site by two am. The body would be exhumed by seven that morning, and at the airport an hour later. 

He’d woken Faith up at five, went downstairs and found Alfred already awake. 

“Master Wayne.”

“Good morning, Alfred.”

“You’re up early.”

“I’m heading out of town for a few days.” He set Faith’s purse on the counter, which had the necklace inside of it. She was upstairs, putting on a pair of his jog sweats, T-shirt and sweatshirt to get her across town where they could pick up the photo, and her some clothes for the trip. He settled his overnight bag on the floor and placed his suit bag over the chair. 

“Where are you headed?”

“Boston...then Switzerland.”

“This is rather last minute.”

“It is.” He hummed as he sat down on the stool, and took the cup of coffee Alfred offered with a nod of thanks. “I’ve _met_ someone, Alfred.”

He almost choked on his coffee, at the clear look of astonishment on Alfred’s face. 

“I take it, it’s not Miss Rachel we are discussing?”

“No, that’s _done_.”

“Do I want to know what happened?”

“I woke up.”

“Ah, I see.” Alfred hummed. “So who is the lucky lady?”

“Faith Lehane.”

“The Slayer?”

“The very one.” He smiled fondly to himself, and Alfred felt his heart fill at the look of clear adoration on his charge’s face. “She’s a breath of fresh air.”

“So, is she the reason for this impromptu trip?”

“Yes, but it’s not what you’re thinking, Alfred. In fact, I’m fairly certain you’d never, ever guess the real reason in a million years.”

“Would you care to share the reason?”

“Go ahead.” Faith’s voice sounded from the top of the stairs, as she smirked down at him. Her eyes then drifted to Alfred and her expression brightened. “Hi, I’m Faith.”

“Good morning, Miss Faith. Would you care for a cup of coffee?”

“Nah, I’m not much for caffeine, but I’d love some OJ, if you have it?”

“Of course.”

“Cool!” She walked over and hummed happily when Bruce wrapped her within his embrace. Alfred handed her a tall glass of freshly squeezed juice, and she took a healthy gulp. “Oh man, this is the best!”

Bruce chuckled. “Alfred makes it fresh everyday.”

“Nice!” Her exuberant voice then sobered slightly. “You can tell him, Bruce.”

So he did. 

He rather enjoyed Alfred’s gobsmacked expression, as he sat down in shock and then stared up at Faith in awe. 

“I don’t know what to say, Miss Faith.”

“I’m not sure there is anything to say, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Oh, call me Alfred, young lady. Something tells me we will be seeing much more of each other in the future.”

“Okay. Thank you for the juice.”

“It’s not a problem.” The butler’s gaze then fixed onto his employer, charge and surrogate child and inquired, “Does Mr. Fox know?”

“We’re on our way there now.”

“Very good, Master Wayne. I’ll see you both in a few days. Stay safe.”

On the ride across town, Faith called Angel. 

“Hey Faith, what’s up?”

“Hi, Angel. Uhm, I need to tell you something and I need for you to not totally freak out.”

“Okay...did something happen, Faith? Are you alright?”

“Five by five. I’m going to be leaving the country for a couple days.”

“To _where_?” She could hear the concern in Angel’s voice. “I thought you were in Gotham?”

“I am, but somethings come up that’s kinda important. I’m heading to Switzerland.”

“That’s not random at all, Faith.”

She huffed out a laugh and then snorted, “Trust me, I know. Things are kinda random right now though.” 

She heaved a breath and Bruce could see her struggling. 

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“You don’t mind?”

“No, Gorgeous. I don’t mind.”

She put the phone on speaker, and Bruce introduced himself. 

“Mr. Angel, yes?”

“Yes. Who’s _this_?”

“Bruce Wayne.”

There was dead silence on the phone for the space of a minute before the vampire said evenly, “Gotham’s Dark Knight, _yes?_ ”

“The very one.”

“Are you two on a case?”

“In a manner of speaking. Faith and I have recently begun seeing each other, and she has shared with me about her past in Boston. I take, you’re aware of it?”

“Some. She’s never gone into the exact particulars, but I do know how her parents died.”

“And that she witnessed it?”

Another pause. 

“Faith? Is this _true_?” Angel’s hardened voice bit out. 

“All true.”

“We will be having a talk when I get out there,” Angel demanded, “which will be tomorrow at the latest. What else do I need to know?”

“Angel, do you remember when I told you about the necklace?”

“Yes.”

“That it belonged to my great-grandmother?”

“Yes, you told me that.” He paused. “I believe you also told me her name was Tasia.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t her birth name, her given name.”

“And what was?”

She glanced over at Bruce, and he asked lowly, “Is your line secure?”

“Fully encrypted against man and magical.”

“Anastasia Nickolaevna Romanova.”

“ _What the literal fuck, Faith!_ ” Angel yelled out over the line, alerting someone on his end to his outburst as she heard a voice calling out Angel’s name out in worry. “Shut the door, Harmony, and lock it down.”

Another mumble and then she could hear Angel pacing and slamming things around. 

“ _How_?”

“Long story.” She admitted weakly. 

“You’re going to Bank Suisse, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Bruce replied.

“I’ll meet you there. What time will you be landing?”

“If current estimates hold, we should be flying in at 9pm their time.”

“I’ll alert Wolfram and Hart in Zurich. I’ll have a full security detail in place and the area near the airport and bank fully swept and cleared by the time you get there.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“I’ll be a few hours behind, but I’ll see you soon.” 

And the line went dead. 

Bruce glanced over at Faith, and noticed the small smile on her face. 

“He cares deeply for you.”

“And me for him. He’s saved my life and I’ve saved his. Truth though, it wasn’t always that way. We’ve learned to appreciate each other. Angel is kinda the closet thing to a brother I’m ever going to have.”

“I can see that.” He replied, as he pulled into the Gotham Terrace garage. “Let’s get you packed and off to see Lucius. What will you tell the girls?”

“I’ll tell Vi the truth, and tell her to take care of my dogs and inform everyone after we’re gone. Buffy will be pissed, but she’ll get over it.”

He followed her upstairs and waited out in the hallway. It took Faith all of fifteen minutes to grab her stuff, get dressed and meet him back outside. 

“That was quick.”

“Vi was stunned, but thankfully everyone is still out patrolling and won’t be back much before breakfast.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Slayers are like bats. Nocturnal creatures of habit.”

The rest of the ride fell into silence as they headed directly for Wayne Enterprises. When they got there, Bruce led her into the underground bunker where all his gear was stored and the clean room was set up. 

He chuckled as Faith gaped around in awe, taking everything in. 

“This is so cool!” She blurted out.

“Mr. Wayne.”

Both of them turned towards the voice, and Bruce waved the man over. 

“Lucius, this is Faith Lehane. Faith, this is Lucius Fox, my CEO and all around problem solver.”

Lucius chuckled deeply, holding out his hand for Faith to take, which she did. 

“So, you’re the Slayer?”

“Yes.”

“And what is it you’ll be needing, Mr. Wayne?”

“I’ll need you to take Faith’s blood and tissue samples for a full DNA analysis. The bones of the person being exhumed are that of her great-grandmother. You will need to do an independent analysis of the DNA to prove the familial relationship.”

“But she is your relation, yes?”

“She is, but we have reason to believe that Faith’s great-grandmother, may have actually been the Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanova.”

Lucius took a step back in stunned shock. “How is that _possible_?”

“It just is, Lucius. Do you have the photo, Faith?”

She nodded and pulled it and the necklace out of her bag. She set them down on the work station next to Lucius and he lifted the photo first and then the necklace before he sat down and placed his head in his hands. When he finally glanced up, he seemed to be slightly more composed. 

“There is a picture of the Grand Duchess in the Hermitage. Do you know of it?” 

“Yes. Sergei Nemerov told me last night.”

“I’ve seen it... _recently_. When I went to Russia last year for the company, I took a private tour. You’re not allowed to take photos however.”

“But you did, didn’t you?” He grinned impressed, and Lucius nodded sheepishly before pulling out his phone and connecting it to the computer station, leaving Bruce to scan Faith’s photo into the computer. It only took about five minutes when both images appeared on the split screen side by side. 

“Holy fuck!” Faith whispered out stunned. 

“I think that about covers it, Miss Lehane.” Lucius deadpanned, as he stared at the images in awe. “Or should I call you, Your Grace?”

“Gods, no!” She snorted out a hysterical giggle. “That’s so not me.”

“Apparently, Gorgeous—it is...or will be soon enough.”

“Let’s get the samples done and sealed away. Airport next?”

“Yes.”

Lucius led Faith into the clean lab. It took him about fifteen minutes to safely procure the samples needed and then he followed his employer and apparently, his employer’s new paramour to the Gotham airport where the Wayne Jet was ready to go. 

Faith took a heavy breath as she walked towards the plane, and Bruce remembered belatedly what Giles had said about her aversion to flying. 

“I’m sorry, Gorgeous. I didn’t even think that this was an issue.”

“Giles?”

“Yeah, he told me you rode your motorcycle in from Cleveland. That you hate to fly.”

“Only did it once. From LA to Boston after the destruction of Sunnydale.”

“Well, once we leave Boston and head to Europe, I have ways to keep you distracted.”

“Mile high club?”

“Yes.” He growled and she felt her panties soak at the heated look emanating from the sexy man staring down at her. 

“I could get on board with that.”

He chuckled as they made their way into his plane, putting their bags away and then buckling Faith in for take off. He held her hand all the way to Boston, as she stared out the window with a look of wonder on her face. He glanced over at Lucius, who was watching them both with an indulgent knowing smirk on his face.

It was as if Lucius already suspected what he’d just figured out within the past hour. 

He was _totally smitten_ with Faith Lehane, and completely unbothered by that fact. 


	13. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Bruce share their pasts.

The trip to Boston went off without a hitch. Bruce’s team had the remains sealed up and ready for transport, while Lucius was handed a hermetically sealed container to take back to Gotham. 

“I should have the results within 12-hours, Mr. Wayne.”

“Call me when it’s done.”

“Of course,” Lucius nodded and then turned to Faith, “be careful, young lady—and keep this one out of trouble.”

“Easier said than done.”

Bruce lifted an incredulous eyebrow, but didn’t respond as he watched Lucius get on the hired jet with the security detail, and then witnessed the plane taxi and take off back to Gotham. 

“Mr. Wayne, we will be all fueled in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Alex.”

He led Faith back into the plane, and buckled her in. They watched together, as the last of the exhumed remains were placed on board and then they were off into the early dawn, heading east for Zurich. 

“How are you?” He asked once they were at altitude, going over to the small fridge and grabbing some fresh fruit, juice and pastries that had been left for them. 

“I’m still in shock, I think. It’s weird, you know? I’ve spent my whole life trying not to think about my Mom’s death...thinking that it was just my Dad going insane. I never thought there might be some bigger reason behind it all.”

“I can’t imagine it makes it any easier.”

“It doesn’t. I still hate him for what he did and that’s never going to change. He took my Mom away from me, forced me into an orphanage where things were bad.”

“How bad?”

She just shook her head and stared out the window, wiping a reluctant tear from the corner of her eye. She sensed Bruce moving out of his chair and kneeling at her side, and when he turned her chair to face him, his expression was thunderous. 

“ _How bad?_ ”

“ _Bad_.” She admitted softly, “It was small stuff at first. Other kids picking on me. Calling me names because I wouldn’t talk to anyone. The nuns and priest there weren’t much better. They were never physically abusive, but they didn’t stop the other kids from hurting each other.”

“What happened?”

“When I was twelve, an older boy tried to rape me. I managed to grab a knife I’d kept hidden under my pillow, and cut his face pretty good before he could, but he knocked me down and broke my arm. They heard my screams, and found me and they took him away. Dunno what happened to him after that. That was the first time I ran away. By the time I was called at sixteen, I was just so relieved to be out of there, but then my Watcher was killed no long afterwards. I left Boston, jumped on a train and headed west to Sunnydale. Took me about two weeks to make it there. Stole food when I could find it, but due to my Slayer powers, I was able to defend myself.”

Bruce unbuckled her belt and pulled her into his embrace before taking her to the back of the plane and laying her down on the bed with him. He just held her, sighing softly when she snuggled her face into his chest. She didn’t cry, nor give any outwards signs of physical or emotional distress, other than her stilted breathing. 

She was damn good at compartmentalizing her emotions. 

“Do you remember the name of the boy who assaulted you?”

“Jack. Jack Napier.”

He nodded, but didn’t reply as he just continued to hold her—but he made a silent vow to find this Jack Napier and make him _pay_. 

“Sorry to be such a mood killer.”

“You’re _not_ ,” he whispered emotively in her ear, “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. Have you ever told...”

“ _No_.” She cut him off with a firm shake of her head. “I know shrinks will tell you that talking about your stuff helps you deal, but I’ve never agreed with that. You can’t change what’s happened, but you can make sure shit like that doesn’t ever happen again. I won’t be a victim again.”

“Hence why you like control.”

“Yes.”

“Makes perfect sense. A contract gives you the boundaries you need to feel safe.”

Large brown eyes lifted to his hazel, and he could see the raw emotion there. 

“ _Yes_.” The word came out on a sigh, but he heard it and he felt his chest constrict, pulling Faith further into his embrace. 

“Would you prefer it if we had something like that?”

“My first instinct is to say ‘ _yes_ ’ cause it’s the one I’m most comfortable with.” She ran her hand down his chest and played with the buttons on his dress shirt, even as she cocked her head in contemplation. “You wrote something up, right?”

“I did.”

“Do you have it?”

He sat up and went to grab his laptop, opening it and finding the document. He felt Faith settling in next to him and he turned the screen a bit, so she could read it more clearly. He watched her face, as she scanned through the file. It was about three pages long, and discussed both hard and soft limits, aftercare, social expectations—things he felt he wanted to do for her and with her, outside of a sexual relationship. Once she was finished reading, she glanced up at him with a small smirk. 

“This is fairly comprehensive.”

“I spent the better part of two days writing and rewriting it.”

“So? You only have a few hard limits here.”

“I know.” He returned her playful smirk with one of his own. “Monogamy. I _don’t_ share. It’s just who I am. Doesn’t mean I don’t like to watch...”

“Like when I was dancing at the club?”

“I rather enjoyed that, but I would’ve preferred being on the receiving end of your attention, then watching a group of men ogle you.”

“Fair enough.” She nodded. “No blondes, or redheads.”

“I prefer brunettes.”

“Got that one.” She scanned down and actually giggled at the next one. “I’m not into weird shit either, Wayne. Fire play, anal fisting, torture, certain bodily fluids...glad to see you’re not into that stuff either. Although wax play can be fun.”

“Never tried that.”

“Well, if you’re open we can try it sometime. Let’s see...soft limits.” Her eyes lifted at the most obvious one. “Pegging? You allowed me to finger you?”

“That was a new experience for me, and yes, I enjoyed it—but to be honest, I’m not sure how I’d feel about more than that.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” She quipped before pointing to another one. “Shibari?”

“It’s a kind of rope bondage. Very stimulating for the woman, but I put it down because I didn’t know how much of bondage you were familiar with, or would allow.”

“Never done that.”

“Would you be open to trying it?”

“Maybe? The only bondage I’ve ever allowed a partner to use was handcuffs, for obvious reasons, and it was just the once.”

“Who?”

“My ex. Robin Wood.”

“Where is he?” 

“Don’t know, don’t care. We met in Sunnydale before the fight with the First and then afterwards we went to Cleveland together. He wasn’t a long term prospect, and he had a wandering eye. I think he preferred more of a submissive kind of girl, and that wasn’t me.”

“Sounds like a jerk.”

“He was. No great loss, trust me.”

“Have you had anal sex?”

“No. Again, that requires a level of trust and intimacy that I’ve never had with a partner. The same holds true for blindfolds. Both I’d consider soft limits for now. Have you ever done that with a woman?”

“No. We can table those for later.”

“You listed asphyxiation as a soft limit, why?”

“I can hold my breath for well over two minutes. You?”

“Nearly three minutes.”

“That’s impressive,” he hummed thoughtfully, “So while I’ve never tried it, I’m not sure it’s something I’d ever consider...”

“Orgasmic?”

“Yeah.”

“Me neither.”

“Good.” He chuckled lightly, as he pointed to the last of the soft limits. “I don’t like to be photographed for obvious reasons and I almost considered this one a hard limit, because technology sometimes has a way of getting into the wrong hands.”

“I would have to tell you that I adore mirrors, and I love watching myself and my partner get off but video is a hard limit for me as well as photos.”

“Then we will change that one.”

When they were done with the limits, she looked over the other items and sighed. 

“What?” He asked lowly. 

“So aftercare. You want me to stay the night?”

“Yes, and it’s _not_ negotiable. I know you’re not ready to be in a full time live-in relationship, and in truth, I do like my space as well, but when we’re together intimately, I will expect to stay over either at mine or yours. Also, I reserve the right to buy you things if the impulse occurs. I’ll try to limit it to simple extravagances, but I want you to be open to the idea.”

Her heavy sigh had his heart clenching a bit. 

He knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who expected anything from anyone. 

“Does it really make you that uncomfortable?”

“I’m not sure that’s the right word. I think...” She bit her lip, as she tried to think of how to say what she needed to, but the words just wouldn’t come. 

“You want to know what I think?”

“Can I stop you from sharing?”

“Nope.”

“Fine! Tell me, Wayne.”

“You don’t think you deserve to be treated with such consideration because if you were to allow it, you might become attached. Giving a thoughtful gift, speaks of caring and intimacy...both things you’ve actively avoided.”

“Sound like someone else you know?”

“Yes, Gorgeous—hence why I can understand it from a different perspective. The last gift I received that meant something was an arrowhead that Rachel found in my garden at Wayne Manor when I we were eight. It was six months before my parents were killed. She'd kept it for years and gave it back to me on my thirtieth birthday. That was the night my ancestral home burnt down.”

“I remember reading about that. What was up with that? Did you really burn it down in a drunken rage?”

“No.” He shook his head and closed his laptop for the moment, before he pulled Faith back down into his side. “When I left Gotham, I traveled the world as a vagrant. Stealing food when I needed to eat, and trying to understand the more criminal elements within the world. During this time, I met a man named Ducard, who liberated me from a Bhutanese jail and offered me a path.”

“A path to what?”

“The League of Shadows.”

She sat up and stared down at him in wonder. “You _trained_ with the League?”

“Yes, for nearly seven years.”

“Shit.”

“Why am I not surprised you’ve heard of the League?”

“Just in passing. Truth is, Slayers don’t deal much with the human world. But there are some supernatural mentions about the League, but honestly I don’t really remember anything specific.” 

“Hmmm, that’s interesting and maybe something we can visit again later?”

“Sure. So you’ve trained with the League and then what? Decided to leave?”

“It was forced, in a way. I didn’t know Ducard, was really Ra’s al Ghul and when I went through my final initiation, I was required to kill a thief and a murderer.”

“And you couldn’t do it?”

“No. I inadvertently burnt down the League’s lair in Nanda Parbat, so Ra’s burnt down my home in retaliation.”

“And where is this Ra’s?”

“Dead. Killed two years ago when the Gotham train crashed before it could reach Wayne Tower and unleash the chemical that Crane put into the city’s water supply.”

“Sounds like the jerk got what he deserved.” She then glanced away before she asked haltingly, “What about you and Rachel? What really went down?”

When he didn’t answer right away, she looked at him and his eyes were averted—his expression hard and stoic and she sighed—going to move off the bed—but a firm hand on her arm stopped her. 

“Don’t go, Faith. Just give me a minute to process how to say this without allowing myself to become...”

“Emotional?”

He nodded, his expression changing into a sad smirk as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling, but kept his hand on her arm—absently rubbing it before he began to speak. 

“Rachel has been my best friend since we were kids. Her mom, worked as a housemaid for my parents and we played together often. We were home schooled together for a time. In high school we dated, and we were each other’s firsts.”

“But?”

“I wasn’t a very good boyfriend. Moody, liked to party, never took anything too seriously. After high school, I went to Princeton and Rachel went to NYU. She went to Law School at Columbia, and I was given a spot in Princeton’s MBA program. It was expected, but not what I’d wanted to do.”

“What did you want to do?”

“I don’t really remember wanting much of anything back then. Rachel was doing her internship at the DA’s office in Gotham between her first and second year of Law School, and I came home when I’d heard that the DA’s office made a deal with the man who’d killed my parents. He was going to turn states evidence against the mobster Carmine Falcone and in exchange, they’d reduce his sentence to time served.”

“What happened.”

“I bought a gun illegally and was going to kill him.” 

Her eyes widened and she hissed out a surprised breath. 

“You obviously didn’t.”

“Not for lack of wanting to, but I was beaten to it by one of Falcone’s assassins. Chill, the man who killed my parents was killed right in front of me. When I told Rachel what I’d planned later that same day, she slapped me twice and then told me my Father would’ve been so disappointed in me. That’s when I left Gotham. I was broken.”

She nodded. “I know a bit about that.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know all of it.” She shook her head sadly. “I killed a man when I was sixteen.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I was out slaying one night with Buffy. I was young and green and stupidly thought I knew all there was to know about Slaying. Got caught up in the moment taking down vamps, when a human came walking around the corner out of nowhere, and I reacted on adrenaline, didn’t listen to my inner spidey senses telling me he wasn’t a threat. I spiraled after that, went rogue for a time, even went to jail—but broke out to save Angel from himself and then helped Buffy destroy the First. Before I went to Cleveland, Angel erased my record and had one of his people do the Wiccan mojo to make sure my past would never come back to haunt me in any way. Some days, I think I got off too easy.”

“No!” He reached for her, and cupped her face tenderly. “If anything, Faith—you’ve paid your dues and suffered enough.”

“You really think so?”

“I do.” He kissed her tenderly. “Only good things from here on out, okay?”

“I’ll hold you to that, Wayne.” She kissed him again softly, before she asked, “Now, didn’t you promise me we could join the mile high club?”

“I did.”

“Well? What are you waiting for, handsome?”

She watched Bruce’s expression change on a dime, before he rolled her underneath him and kissed her breathless. 

For the next five hours, they took excellent advantage of their alone time before the world descended in full. 


	14. The Grand Duchess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Faith show their evidence of Faith’s heritage.

When they’d landed in Zurich, it was a bit after nine at night local time. Bruce’s Jet was cleared to taxi into a private hangar at the end of the airfield, and when they’d entered...Faith’s eyes widened at the number of security people standing by. 

It was like a small armed militia. 

Before they disembarked, she grabbed her bag and then let Bruce lead her down the steps of the plane and out into the blinding fluorescent light.

“Bruce!”

Turning to where the voice was coming from, she took notice of a dapper older gentleman, who was about six foot two, lean and clean shaven. He had on a distinguished pair of glasses and a beaming smile on his face. Bruce went over and shook the man’s hand with relish. 

“Karl. It’s good to see you.”

“And you. I was contacted by Mr. Angel of Wolfram and Hart. His team and mine have been working together to make sure all goes smoothly.” His deep blue eyes then settled on her, and his smile widened, if such a thing is possible. 

“My dear, Miss Lehane. Welcome to Zurich!” He took her proffered hand and bowed over it in reverence. 

“Hello, Sir.”

“I insist you call me, Karl.” He then waved a few of his men over and the unloading of her prababushka’s remains commenced. “It should only take a few minutes to load everything into the armored vehicle.”

“You’re not messing around.” She quipped and Karl winked at her. 

“No. The Bank is about six kilometers from here. We have executive suites on the top floors for our distinguished guests. You and Mr. Wayne will stay as my guests, until we finish the verification.”

“And then?”

“And then you’ll need to decide how you wish to proceed.”

Once Karl got the all clear from his team, he led his guests into the armored SUV’s that would take them into Zurich. 

“We really appreciate you doing this.” She said softly. “I’m sure this must all seem a bit surreal?”

“It does,” Karl chuckled, “but I had have held out hope since 1989 for this day to come.”

Once they were situated, the caravan set off towards their destination. 

“How did you know it was true?”

“I didn’t know for sure prior to 1989, but about ten years ago, let’s just say I had a very enlightening conversation with a gentleman that confirmed my suspicions that Anastasia had likely survived.”

“Don’t tell me?” Bruce grinned knowingly. “Sergei Nemerov?”

“The very one.” Karl chuckled deeply. “As luck would have it, the Moscow Ballet had come to Zurich for their summer season, and I was introduced to the man in question. His brother had recently passed, and I’d recognized the surname. I invited him to my home, and we shared stories.”

“So he confided to you that his brother had confessed to falsifying the documents.”

“Yes. Anatoly...well? He was a loyalist to the old Soviet regime, but as his life came to an end, he felt the need to unburden himself from the lies he’d perpetuated in life. I do believe it wasn’t quite the coincidence that Sergei and I met, nor that the ballet had been scheduled here. Although it was quite fortuitous that you both happened to meet him in Gotham. Fate is a fickle mistress.”

“That’s true.” Bruce grinned, taking Faith’s hand in his. “Lucius asked me to show you something as well, once we get to the Bank.”

“Oh?”

“He was at the Hermitage last year. He secretly photographed the painting of Anastasia. We compared it to the photo Faith has of her great-grandmother.”

“And?” Karl leant forward in anticipation. 

“Perhaps I’ll let you see for yourself.” Bruce teased, and Karl chuckled in good humor. 

“I do like anticipation.”

It was another thirty minutes to the Bank and another thirty to unload the remains into the secure lab. Once there, Karl led them down to the basement of Bank Suisse, where a lab technician was waiting. 

“Bruce, Faith? This is my godson, Michel. He is the foremost geneticist for the National Hospital here in Zurich and he will be doing the testing.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” 

Michel then led Faith over to the blood draw area, and took another sample much in the same was Lucius had. He then took some hair and skin samples too. Once done, Karl led them to his office on the thirtieth floor. 

“So?” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together in excitement. “Please put this poor man out of his misery, if you would be so kind.”

Faith laughed a joyous sound, and Bruce smiled at her adoringly. She set down her bag and opened it, taking out the box that housed the necklace, as well as the photo and set it on Karl’s desk. Bruce was simultaneously setting up his laptop, which had the file that Lucius had sent him of the photos. 

Karl opened the box first and his eyes widened in wonder as he took out the necklace and held it carefully. He took off his glasses and reached for a loop at the end of his desk, placing it directly over his left eye as he studied the necklace from all angles. When he was done with his cursory inspection, which took about fifteen minutes, he smiled in satisfaction. 

“The jewels are real and what’s more, the filigree work is indicative of the the Royal Crown Jeweler George Friedrich Eckart, and if I’m not mistaken, it has his seal on the right of the clasp—which is where it should be.” He pressed a button and another, older gentleman came in. “Bruce, Faith—this is Gregor Peters, our in house heirloom specialist.”

The man bowed lowly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“The pleasure is ours.” Bruce replied, as the man stood there waiting to be addressed with orders. Karl asked him to step around the desk and then took out the photo from the box, and both men hissed is stunned reverence. Karl’s hands shook as he lifted the photo and swallowed heavily before he turned it around and noted the date on the back. 

“Tasia, July 18, 1921.”

“ _Mon Dieu!_ ” Gregor whispered in wonderment. 

Bruce then turned his laptop to the two gentlemen so they could see the pictures that Lucius had downloaded side by side. 

“It’s _true_.” Karl said with a shaky voice, his eyes glistening—his hands cupping over his mouth as he considered the young woman across from him. 

He’d prayed for this moment for years and now? 

Here it was...

... _here she was.._.

The Grand Duchess Nickolaevna Romanova.

He glanced over his shoulder at Gregor, who was staring at Faith Lehane in profound awe. 

“Take the necklace, Gregor. Authenticate it.”

“Of course, Sir.”

The man bowed humbly and left the room, leaving both Faith and Bruce a bit overwhelmed by the clear veneration from the two gentlemen. 

“I must apologize for my lack of professionalism,” Karl began, “but I had wondered if this moment was ever to come, or was just a wishful fantasy on my part.”

“We still need the blood work, right?” Faith inquired hesitantly, and Karl nodded. 

“Yes, of course but, my dear—I think you must _prepare_ yourself for the truth. I believe we all know deep down what those tests will show, correct?”

She nodded reluctantly. “I hear what you’re saying, but it’s just so much to take in. No offense, but there’s a part of me that keeps hoping this is some big mistake.”

“Why?”

She glanced over at Bruce questioningly and he sighed, shrugging his shoulders, almost as if he was telling her silently that the choice was hers to make. 

She then gave Karl back her full attention and asked simply, “You’re good at keeping secrets?”

“It’s the nature of my work, my dear.”

“Have you ever come across something that you couldn’t explain? At least from a human standpoint?”

Karl have her an inscrutable look, but nodded silently. 

“And do you believe there are forces out in the world that can’t be explained?”

“Such as?”

“Vampires, demons, monsters?”

Karl paled but nodded again. “I do.”

“Do you know what a Slayer is, Mr. Stroessner?”

“I’ve heard the term, yes.” He swallowed, before his eyes fluttered over to the man sitting next to the likely Romanov Heiress, and Bruce Wayne wasn’t batting an eyelash. “I’m familiar with the IWC as well. We handle their banking.”

“Oh? Well, that’s kinda convenient.” She mumbled before adding quickly, “But anyway—I’m the Slayer, Sir.”

“ _Shit_.” 

She giggled softly, while Bruce smiled indulgently at her. 

Karl however, just looked like he’d been sucker punched to the gut. 

“You’re the Chosen One?”

“It’s a long story, Sir.”

“We have plenty of time, my dear.”

So she told Karl the origins of her calling, leaving out her more questionable choices. She told him of the fight with the First, and the Slayer Scythe calling forward the potentials. When she was done, the man just looked completely exhausted and worn. 

“ _Unbelievable_! It makes so much sense now. Your connection with Wolfram and Hart. Mr. Angel.”

“Yes. Do you think I’ll be in danger once word gets out about my heritage?”

“That I can’t say for certain, but I don’t believe things happen by chance, my dear. You having these gifts...powers...it’s not a coincidence. The Powers that Be knew you’d need protecting, and chose you for the call. I have no doubt of this.”

She paled as she considered that possibility, and even Bruce appeared thoughtful. 

“It does make sense.” He said after a moment. 

“Maybe.”

“Why don’t I show you both to your suite for the night?”

“That would be lovely, Karl. Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem, Bruce. Faith? We will see you in the morning with good news.”

She nodded, unsure of how to respond to that comment as she was still trying to process that her life was likely going to irrevocably change soon. 

And not necessarily in a good way. 


	15. Absolute Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Faith have a quiet moment before the world descends in full.

They were shown to their suite and Karl left them with promises of breakfast in the morning. There was a lovely spread of dinner waiting for them, and Bruce took Faith’s hand...leading her to the small table for two, pulling out her chair while she gave him a soft ‘ _thank you_ ’ in return. 

The meal was eaten in relative silence and he didn’t know what to say. 

What could he say at this juncture? 

Now that they were in Zurich, he had to wonder where they went after the truth was confirmed. They still had a job to do back in Gotham, and from what he could glean from Faith’s personality, it was highly unlikely she’d step aside and allow her fellow Slayers go after the Joker without her.

He’d spoken with Lt. Gordon Friday night, as Batman—at the top of the Police Building, alongside Harvey Dent. It was his first time meeting the new DA as his alter ego, and he’d been impressed with the man’s commitment to ridding Gotham of its criminal elements. During these past few weeks, Gordon’s people had been making drug buys with marked bills, and they’d uncovered three banks that were likely fronts for the mobs illegal money laundering. The only missing piece of the puzzle Dent and Gordon were waiting on, was Lau. If they could somehow get their hands on the main accountant for the Mob, they could charge all the remaining principals under RICO, and maybe have a hope of cleaning up Gotham’s streets for good. 

He’d been so fixated on Faith this past week, he’d been neglecting his other responsibilities, and in the past such distractions—well, he’d simply not allow them to take precedence, but for this— _for her?_

He didn’t seem to mind it so much. 

He hadn’t been lying to Alfred when he’d said that Faith was like a breath of fresh air. She really was. Of all the things that had come crashing into his life, especially over these few past weeks—she was the one thing that made absolute sense. It was like he’d found a missing puzzle piece, and it was something he’d not even realized he’d been without. Not until she’d come barreling into his life. 

Now he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. 

It was both sobering and scary. 

But it was also exhilarating, too.

“You’re awfully quiet.” 

His head shot up, as he took in the worried expression of the beauty across from him. 

“Sorry, just a lot on my mind.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Met with Gordon Friday night. Dent too. They’ve been trying to suss out where the mob has been keeping its money. We’ve been making some progress.”

“Aren’t you worried that Maroni’s plants in the Police Department might’ve given him a heads up?”

“Not this time. Gordon didn’t share the particulars with anyone except me. I provided him the marked bills for his people to make the drug buys, but as far as anyone else knows? They were just trying to identify the low level enforcers. Gordon seems to think we’re good to go. Lau will be here Wednesday, so once he’s in Gotham...the police will serve him with an arrest warrant.”

“Before or after your meeting?”

“During, I believe.”

“Isn’t that risky?”

“It’s the lesser of the evils. It will allow me to feign outrage and surprise.”

“But won’t it hurt your company’s image, even being somewhat associated with a guy like Lau?”

He reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Not necessarily. Lau doesn’t have diplomatic immunity, but it would be in his best interests to cooperate. He can give up his connections to Gotham’s mob, and still save face, especially if he offers his testimony in exchange for immunity from prosecution. He can go back to Hong Kong once the mess is over, and he won’t be extradited due to his status as a Chinese National.”

“Seems complicated.”

“It usually is.”

She set her glass of water down after taking a sip and stood. “I’m going to take a bath.”

“Want some company?”

“Really?”

He stood up too, and held out his hand, which Faith took without hesitation. They found their way into the large ensuite that had a beautiful copper claw foot tub big enough for two. Faith turned on the water and picked out her favorite of the assortment of bath oils to choose from. As the tub filled, she undressed—went through her nightly routine before settling herself into the tub. 

Bruce had left initially, but came back in a bit later...face clean shaven and buck naked. 

“Nice view.” She quipped causing Bruce to grin, as he settled himself behind her in the tub. 

“I smell Sandalwood, some kind of vanilla and...what is that last scent?”

“Heliotrope with day lily. At least according to the bottle.”

“It’s nice.”

“I thought so. Kinda neutral.”

“You don’t want me smelling flowery?” He chortled into her ear, and she snorted, settling herself fully into his embrace. 

“Not unless you want to, Wayne. I did like the cologne you wore to the museum the other night.”

“Ah, it’s Valentino.” He hummed, nipping at Faith’s neck playfully. “What scent do you wear? It’s smells _delicious_ on you.”

He smirked when Faith snorted and then replied sarcastically, “I’d doubt you’d know it.”

“Try me.”

“Coty Wild Musk.”

“Huh?”

“Told you. It’s a perfume that’s found in drug stores.”

His face cracked a surprised grin, and then he threw back his head and laughed heartily. 

“Are you making fun of my perfume, Wayne?”

“No, Gorgeous—not even a little bit, I’m just...” he shook his head at how utterly simply wonderful Faith was. 

“ _What_?” She asked warily, and he could hear the hesitation in her voice. He carefully turned her around so she was straddling his waist, then kissed her reverently for several moments before breaking the intimacy and cupping her face within his hands. 

“You’re just _unexpected_ , is all. And before you assume it’s a bad thing, _it’s not._ It’s refreshing.”

“You say that now...”

“And I’ll always say it.” He interrupted with another swift kiss. “Faith, my whole life I’ve been surrounded by wealth. By people who value money and greed over people. Who take for granted the gifts they’ve been given. Who feel entitled to look down on those who they deem as lesser than. I’ve done it—hell, I probably still do to a certain extent. I chose to run away from my life to find myself. But, I always knew in the back of my mind, that safety net was there should I choose to reach for it and claim it. You’ve never had that. You’ve seen the harshness of life with no safety net to protect you. Now? You will never have to live that life again, should you choose not to. Yes, you’ll still be a Slayer, but you’ll never go hungry again, nor not have a home of your own. You’ll have choices now.”

“And what if I don’t want it?”

“ _Faith_...” he whispered with empathy, “there’s no reason to be afraid. I’m not going anywhere and you have people who care about you. Is it the unknown that is making you feel unsure?”

“It’s the expectations. Everyone is going to expect me to be something I’m not.”

“Perhaps. But think of it this way? Just because the truth comes out, doesn’t mean you have to put yourself into situations that you’d rather not. There’s nothing that says you have to become a socialite, nor indulge the rabid gossip mongers of the world.”

“So I can still live like a shut in and call it good?”

“Is that what life’s like for you?”

“Pretty much for the most part although I had a few interests outside of Slaying. Giles came to Cleveland for a couple months to try and encourage me to stop being such a recluse. Apparently, Buffy thinks I’m too antisocial.”

“I don’t get that at all. I just think you’re discerning and don’t wish to waste your time on people who don’t deserve it. You adore Vi, right? And Rona? You seem to be rather close with the two of them?”

“Yeah. Only because I see so much of myself in them. Rona’s life was almost as complicated as mine growing up, and Vi? She’s a sweet kid, but she has no self-esteem.”

“Is that an issue for you?”

She nodded slowly. 

“I’m working on it. Work in progress.”

“I would’ve never guessed that at all. You’re so good at compartmentalism, it’s both impressive and concerning.”

“Thanks, Wayne.”

He could see Faith physically closing herself off, so he leant down...placing a sweet kiss onto her lips which she deepened instantly. 

They stayed like that for an interminable amount of time, taking sustenance from each other’s mouths as the push and pull of their lips and tongues, was like a dance they’d done for their entire lives. 

When he felt Faith’s hands grip onto his hair, he immediately stood up and smirked into the kiss when Faith wrapped her lithe legs around his waist. He stepped carefully out of the tub—grabbing a large fluffy Egyptian Cotton bathrobe off the door and once in their bedroom, laid it on the duvet, before setting Faith down on top of it. 

As he pulled away and gazed down at her, she was watching him with her large doe eyes that made his gut clench with something primal. 

He felt as if he wanted to _consume_ her. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I want to.”

He nodded as he gently spread her legs and leant down, deeply inhaling her sex which was a heady mixture of perfection. He flicked out his tongue tentatively and took a small taste of her sweetness, groaning at the flavor that he’d only smelled from her panties, and dove in. 

She arched off the bed at his assault, as she gripped his hair—her lusty moans filling their room. 

It was a while before he let her come undone. 

He felt quite proud of the litany of her moans and cries, calling out his name as she squirted into his mouth. 

He _devoured_ her, as if she was the most succulent treat he’d ever been given. 

Once he’d finished, he glanced up and smirked in smug satisfaction before climbing on top and bringing his lower half flush with hers. 

“You ready?” He growled. 

She just nodded once before he sheathed himself roughly into her still quivering core and proceeded to... _Fuck. Her. Raw._

He’d lost count of how many times she’d come before he shouted his own release, spilling inside of her as he collapsed into her waiting arms. 

“Fucking hell.” She whispered, her voice hoarse from overuse and he hummed in agreement. 

“Pretty much, sums it up.”

Gently disengaging, he rolled them into a more suitable position for sleep and smiled as Faith rubbed her face against his chest before she sighed in contentment. 

“Sleep, Gorgeous. Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”

“Hmm...”

He listened to her breathing evening out and he glanced over at the clock. 

It was just past midnight. 

Feeling his eyelids becoming heavier by the second, he finally gave into his exhaustion—instinctively knowing come the morning, his entire world would be changing. 

And he was surprisingly okay with that fact. 


	16. Confirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The DNA results come back.

There was a knock on their suite door, that had Bruce groaning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. At some point during the night, he must’ve rolled into Faith because he was wedged right behind her, his leg entwined with hers and his right hand cupped around her breast, while his left was under her head. 

He tried to disengage as the knock sounded a bit more forcefully the second time, and then Faith hummed—her eyes cracking open. 

“What time is it?”

He rolled over and noticed the clock flashing, his eyes widening at the time. 

“It’s past eight.”

“Shit!” She shot up, rushing into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her, causing him to snort out a laugh, as he grabbed the still slightly damp robe off the floor and put it on. 

He called out a ‘ _coming_ ,’ when the knock sounded for the third time. 

Opening the door, he was taken aback by the man on the other side. He was about an inch taller than himself, spiky brown hair, light brown eyes and a leather duster over dress slacks and a black buttoned dress shirt. 

“Mr. Angel?” He queried, and the vampire nodded. 

“You must be, Bruce Wayne.”

“Yes I am, please do come in.” He waved Angel in, and immediately apologized for his less than formal attire. 

“Not a problem.” The vampire smirked, glancing around the room hesitantly—and then there was a squeal and a blur, as Faith rushed out of the bedroom and launched herself across the room. He couldn’t help but notice Angel’s face morph from its intense brooding, to a wide happy smile in an instant. 

“Angel!”

The vampire lifted _his Slayer_ into a fierce hug and gripped her to him tightly, murmuring her name, and he couldn’t help the rush of hot intense jealousy, as he watched Faith cling to the man...vampire...immortal...

... _Fuck_...

“How are you, Faith?”

“Five by five.” She plopped down and turned to him, holding out her hand—which made his body relax the tension he’d been holding in. 

Angel’s smirk widened a bit, as if he’d sensed his discomfort. 

“When did you arrive?” He inquired politely. 

“A few hours ago. Karl was nice enough to give me a place to stay. I’m sorry if I woke you up, but he’d mentioned breakfast was at nine, and I wanted to check in beforehand.”

“No, it’s alright.” He nodded, then glanced down at his attire. “I’m going to go and change.”

“Good idea.” Faith quipped and watched as Bruce left the room, before she turned her attention back to her best friend. 

“You look happy.” Angel took her hand and led her to the red velvet couch by the fireplace. 

“Do I?”

“You really do, and it’s good to see.” He eyed the closed door of the bathroom and heard the shower going. “So, you and Wayne?”

“I guess so.”

“Guess so?”

“Well, yeah. We’ve sort of been seeing each other. It’s fairly new.”

“How new?” Angel’s eyes narrowed, and she shook her head him in warning. 

“He’s _nothing_ like Robin Wood. At least, that’s not the vibe I get from him. He’s complicated and I won’t lie, our whatever this is, didn’t exactly start off on the right foot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He was carrying a torch for his old childhood sweetheart.” 

Angel scowled and she snickered at his grumpy-pissed expression. 

It was a look Angel had perfected over three hundred years. 

“Yeah, I kinda was unsure at first too. But you know how you and Buffy will always care about each other...maybe even love each other, but know in your heart you don’t work in the real world?”

Angel’s expression softened in pained understanding. “I do.”

“That I think, was Wayne’s deal with Rachel Dawes. He left Gotham, came back a changed man. Decided to become Batman for obvious reasons. She couldn’t deal, and he made the decision to put his own happiness second to Gotham’s survival. It’s kind of sweet, in a fucked up way.”

Angel chuckled and nodded. “But he’s here with you?”

“Yep. He says I’m a breath of fresh air, whatever _that_ means. I just can’t help wondering when he’ll wake up and realize I’m not future girl and decide to go back to high school girl?”

“You want to know the one truth I’ve learned after three centuries?”

“Sure...I mean, you’re gonna tell me anyway, right?”

“Of course.” 

“Lay it on me, oh Wise One!”

The vampire shook his head, but couldn’t help a rare smile breaking free. He dearly cared for Faith and loved her self-deprecating nature, as long as she didn’t become too hard on herself. 

“Missed you, you bitch.”

She made kissing noises that actually got Angel to snort out a laugh. 

“Whatever. Where was I?”

“About to do your Jedi Mind Trick on me?”

“Okay, smart ass! What I was trying to tell you before you rudely interrupted me with your sarcasms, is that the one thing I do know for certain, Faith—is that we can find love in the most unlikely of places. You may not have those feelings yet, but if you never open yourself up to the possibility of it, you’ll sabotage yourself and all your relationships will be doomed from the start. Is that how you want to live your life?”

“No. I do want to have some control though.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, as long as the person you’re with understands and wants that too.”

She nodded, biting her lip in contemplation. She didn’t want to betray Bruce’s trust, and didn’t think he’d appreciate her sharing the more intimate details of their private goings on either. 

“He _seems_ to get it.” Was all she said.

“He gets you?”

“I think he’s trying. I’m not an easy person to get to know, you know that, Angel.”

“I probably know it better than anyone, Faith.” Angel sighed, leaning forward and placing his forearms on his thighs—his expression piercing. “Just promise me that whatever happens with all this, you won’t ever go back to rock bottom.”

“I won’t.” She whispered out pained. “I don’t want to die anymore, Angel. I don’t think I’ve wanted that for a while.”

Angel glanced up suddenly, catching a movement out of the corner of his vision, and his eyes widened at the ashen shocked look on Bruce Wayne’s face, as the man stood there rooted in the bedroom doorway. Faith’s head whipped around too, her expression dismayed, as Bruce’s intense hazel eyes bored into her’s—filled with questions. 

“I should _go_.” Angel stood up immediately and nodded to the billionaire. “I’ll see you both in a bit.”

“Thanks for coming, Angel.”

The vampire bowed his head in reply. “There’s no where I would’ve been but here, Faith. You know this.” His light brown eyes considered the other man as he said simply, “Mr. Wayne.”

“Mr. Angel.”. Bruce’s voice was stilted, watching the vampire leave and then his gaze locked once again, onto Faith’s dark brown eyes that were filled with fear.

“Bruce...”

“ _Explain_.” He demanded. 

“It’s truly a long story. Can we table it for the plane ride back to Gotham?”

His mouth flattened, but he nodded briskly, understanding even in his stunned state that now was probably not the best time for lengthy confessions. 

“But we _will_ discuss it, yes?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” He glanced down at Faith’s attire and quirked his lips. “Go and get dressed, and I’ll wait here for you.”

“Alright.” 

She got up and went to walk past him back into their bedroom, when he halted her progress and placed a lingering kiss on her lips. 

“Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t.”

He watched her close the door, a sad smile on her face and felt his posture deflate somewhat from the rush of panic at hearing Angel’s confession. 

Had Faith truly at one point, wanted to die?

Moving over to pour himself a cup of coffee, he reached for that days paper and breezed through it, sighing in relief as thankfully—there was nothing noteworthy. 

He then checked his cell phone.

There was nothing from Lucius yet. 

But there _was_ a text from Rachel. 

Sighing, he opened the messenger and read it... 

_**Bruce, I’m so sorry about what happened at the museum. I wasn’t prepared to see you with someone else and I didn’t handle it well. Can we talk? Alfred said you’re out of town. Call me when you get back.** _

His finger hovered over the delete button, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. For all their issues, and they’d had many—he knew deep down he’d always care about Rachel’s happiness—even if they weren’t together.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, and he felt himself responding on instinct. 

_I am out of town and won’t be back until midweek. I’m not sure what there is left to say. I will always care about you, Rachel. I will always be your friend but we both need to move on. Really move on._

He wasn’t prepared for her immediate response. 

_**I know I screwed up. Your, whatever she is, was right. I should’ve stood with you and I didn’t. I was afraid. I lost you for seven years, Bruce. I blamed myself for your disappearance. I said harsh things, I know...** _

His fingers answered without second thought...

_But true things. I don’t hold that against you. What I don’t get however, is how you could start a relationship with someone else and have expected me to be okay with it._

Her reply was about what he predicted...

_**I do care for Harvey. He’s a good man. But we, you and me, made a promise to each other when this was done that we’d be together.** _

“Shit.” He mumbled out, as he lifted his head to the ceiling in frustration before he responded back. 

_You made the choice for both of us, Rachel. I was finally ready to move forward two years ago, and you basically told me you couldn’t deal with my mask. That once I was done, you’d see the real me again. Rachel, I hate to break it to you? This is the real me. I was gone for seven years. I’ve never talked about that time with you but it changed me irrevocably. We can’t go back._

His phone rang about twenty seconds after he’d hit ‘ _send'_ and he gripped it hard as his finger hovered over the red button...

“Answer it.” Faith’s husky voice fell over the room. When he glanced up, he saw her watching him with a neutral expression on her face. 

“How?”

“You have the same look now as you did on Saturday. It’s Rachel, isn’t it?”

He nodded, as he wasn’t going to lie to her. 

“Bruce. You both have a huge history that’s not going to disappear overnight. If you really want to try and make things work with her, I’d get it.”

“ _Faith_...”

“Nope,” she put her hand up to stop him from speaking, “I’m not owning this. _Not this time_. Call her if you must, but please understand that if you make the choice to go back to her, we’re **done**. I’ll wish you well, but I won’t settle. I’m kinda over that, to be honest.”

He didn’t know what to say. He watched Faith leave the room with him staring after her, as his phone rang for a second time. 

He sighed and picked it up, hitting the speaker button. 

“Rachel.”

“Bruce, thank you for picking up.”

“Now really isn’t the best time.”

“Are you with _her_?”

“Yes.”

“Bruce...”

“Look, Rachel—I meant what I’d said Saturday night. We _can’t_ go back. I’m sorry it took me two years to figure that out. I want you to be happy with Harvey. I’m sure, given the proper chance, you could come to love him?”

There was a weighted pause and then a heavy sigh. 

“I love you, Bruce.”

“Rachel...”

“Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll never bring this up again.”

“I do love you, Rachel.”

He could hear her sigh of relief and it killed him to do this to her but it needed to be done...

“But, I’m not ‘ _in love’_ with you. Not anymore.”

“Are you in love with her?”

“She has a name, Rachel. And no, we’re not there yet but I care about her and she actually makes me laugh.”

Rachel’s surprised hiss wasn’t unexpected, but he forged ahead anyway.

“Faith, makes me feel alive. She gets me in ways I didn’t think was possible and she’s so strong. She can take care of herself and doesn’t balk at my darker side.”

“Sounds to me like you’re half in love with her already.”

He went to deny it, but he stopped himself as he considered the question honestly. 

Was he really already starting to have that level of emotional connection for Faith?

If something happened to her, could he deal with the fallout without wanting to destroy everything in his path? 

The truth of the answer floored him. 

“You might be right.” He admitted at last. “Look, I have to go, Rachel. Faith needs me right now, and I need to be there for her.”

“What’s going on?”

“Not my place to talk about it. Goodbye, Rachel.”

There was a weighted pause before Rachel answered reluctantly, “Goodbye, Bruce. Be safe.”

“Always am.”

He hung up the phone with a heavy sigh and was about to leave the room when his phone rang again. Seeing Lucius name on the screen, he picked it up immediately. 

“Wayne.”

“Mr. Wayne, I just wanted to let you know the testing is done?”

“And?”

“It’s a match.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fox. I’ll let you know what happens soon.”

“Very well, Sir.”

The phone went dead and he stood up, straightened out his suit jacket and made to leave for breakfast. He didn’t know how long Karl’s testing would take, but he did know he needed to talk to Faith and tell her the truth. Hopefully, she would listen to what he had to say.

When he moved out into the hallway leading to the front door, he noticed Faith standing there...her expression an interesting mixture of contriteness and embarrassment. 

“You were listening?”

She shrugged helplessly, “Sue me, Wayne.”

He walked into her space and lifted up her chin, placing a tender kiss on her perfect lips. 

“Are we _good_?” He asked lowly, tilting his forehead onto hers, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of emotional awareness. 

“Five by five.”

He quirked a smirk, and kissed the tip of her nose before escorting her out of their suite and down to Karl’s office. 

When they got there, both Angel and Karl were inside waiting but Faith wasn’t prepared to see several other individuals within the large office. 

There was Gregor, Michel and a few other people she didn’t recognize. When Karl saw them both, his face broke out into a wide, welcoming smile. 

“Good morning you two, did you sleep well?”

“We had a good night.” He eyed the other people, who were all gazing at Faith in wonder. He didn’t need to have anyone tell him the results of the testing, as the looks on the faces of those within the room, spoke volumes. 

“Please, have a seat.”

Faith glanced over at Angel, and he nodded discreetly at her, which caused her to take a shaky inhale of breath. 

“Uhm, I’ll stand if that’s okay? I take it the results are back?”

“They are.” Karl nodded. 

“Time to rip the bandaid off, I guess?”

There were several chortles of easy laughter as Karl went over to his desk and grabbed a black leather-bound portfolio. He then walked over with his hand outstretched in Faith’s direction. She took it reluctantly, and gripped onto it with both hands, that were visibly shaking at this point. 

Staring down at the rather innocuous looking binder, she knew instinctively that what was inside was going to change her future forever, but for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to muster up the courage to have a peek. 

She glanced up at Bruce, who was watching her with a concerned frown and she sighed—handing over the binder to him. His eyes widened briefly in surprise, then softened noticeably before he took a calming breath, and opened it. 

She watched his expression closely, as he read through the documents inside. When he got to the final page, his stoic countenance dissolved into a crooked grin, then he gazed over and made eye contact with her. 

“The DNA is a match, Gorgeous.”

“You mean?”

“Yes. You are the Heiress of Nicholas Aleksandrovich Romanov. Your prababushka _was_ the Grand Duchess, Anastasia Nickolaevna Romanova.”

He watched Faith’s expression struggle to remain passive as her breathing became shallow and short. Angel quickly moved over behind Faith, as he instantly handed the folder back to Karl—who was now watching the scene with concern.

Cupping Faith’s face within his hands, he began to quietly talk to her, noticing with concern that her eyes were beginning to glaze over, and her breathing becoming more erratic. 

“Listen to my voice, Faith. Look at me and _breathe_ with me, okay?”

Desperate brown eyes locked with hazel, as he kept his voice calm and reassuring. “Everything is going to be just _fine_. Angel and I, are both here. Breathe with me, Gorgeous. In and out slowly, good...that’s better. Stay focused on me...”

He kept up a steady litany of simple phrases and soft touches. Faith’s hands had gripped onto his wrists, as she stood there staring up at him—trying to ground herself from falling away. 

“It’s _true_?” She croaked out at last.

“It is.” He replied. 

“Shit.”

Everyone laughed and just like that, the tension diffused. 

They stood there for a few more moments and he kept his hands on her face, caressing her cheeks and smiling softly at her in wonder. 

Angel side-eyed Karl, and the other man winked and nodded in approval. 

“Now what?” Faith asked hoarsely, as she cleared her throat slightly. He took a slight step back and led her to the closest sofa, which was on the far left side of the room. He wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, smiling inwardly when he felt her melt into his embrace. 

Karl, Angel and the others within the room all took up seats surrounding them. 

“Now, Faith—you must decide how you want to handle this. By Law, I am required to inform the Russian Government within 48 hours, per the previous agreement which expires in 2011. The results will be made public, there is nothing I can do to stop that from happening. Bruce mentioned he needs to return to Gotham by Wednesday afternoon. It is Monday morning now.”

“I can postpone the meeting.” Bruce offered swiftly, causing Faith to turn to him as she shook her head emphatically. 

“We both know you can’t do that.”

“Faith...”

“No! Whatever this is, what we need to do in Gotham has to take precedence. You _know_ this.”

He sighed, but nodded reluctantly. Turning to Karl, who was giving them both a curious look, he inquired, “If you contact the Russian consulate, how long until they send a representative?”

“My guess? Within the hour.”

“And the news conference?”

“They may try to stall, as they might insist their own analysis be done.” Bruce bristled and even Angel scowled, but Karl just smirked. “However, they knowingly handed over falsified DNA evidence to Bank Suisse with the express purpose of laying claim to something that by rights, does not belong to them.”

“And if they try to file an injunction?”

“Can they do that?” Faith asked, and Karl shrugged. 

“Not likely, but Bruce is right. They might _try_. However, I took the liberty of contacting Sergei Nemerov and he has agreed to help.”

“In what way?”

“He faxed over a signed affidavit this morning, stating what his brother told him. I’m sure, the Russian government would prefer not to have that kind of scandal to deal with. They may decide to forego an injunction, if we were to agree to keep that information private.”

“How quickly would the funds be transferred into Faith’s name?”

“A week. Perhaps sooner.”

“Sir?” Faith asked quietly, “Is the money now, legally mine?”

“Why do you ask, Miss Lehane?”

“Because I’m wondering if they were to come after me, and somehow I died...would the original 2011 stipulation stay in place?”

Karl smirked and even Bruce looked impressed. 

“Once the papers are filed, you will be for all intents and purposes, the sole heir to the Romanov fortune.”

“And will those papers be filed before we head back to Gotham?”

“Most likely.”

“Then I would like to draft a will before I leave.”

“Faith..” Bruce and Angel both gritted out unhappily. 

“No! If there’s even a chance that with my death, they get their greedy hands on that money, I need to make sure it goes somewhere where I know it’ll do some good.”

Bruce kissed her temple lovingly, and Karl nodded at them, his expression more than pleased.

“Then that’s what we will do.”

“Good.”

“So?” Karl rubbed his hands together mischievously, “Shall we inform the world?”

“Five by five.” Faith winked and everyone joined in on the mirth, as the world was about to be in for one hell of a shock!  



	17. It’s True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith has an interesting conversation with someone unexpected.

The Russian Consulate General in Zurich was now standing in the offices of Karl Stroessner, looking fit to be tied. 

“This _cannot_ be correct!”

“But it **is**.” Karl sat back with a smug look on his handsome face. “I have a signed affidavit from Sergei Nemerov, brother of Anatoly Nemerov stating that his brother admitted before his death that he falsified the DNA evidence of one Anastasia Nickolaevna Romanova. I have her exhumed remains, the necklace she wore in her final portrait as well as photographic evidence that Anastasia _survived_ the assassination. I have her descendant even now, sitting in the room next door.” He slammed his hands on his desk and the man, Ivan Lebedev—flinched back in shock. 

“How dare you!”

“ _ **How dare you!!”**_ Karl hissed. “Don’t get me started, Ivan. And if you were smart, you’d tell your superiors in Moscow to back the fuck off!”

Ivan was stunned. He’d never seen Karl Stroessner this livid in all the years of their acquaintance.

“I wish to _meet_ the girl.”

“We will see if she wishes to meet you, but be warned, Ivan—she _is_ the Grand Duchess Nickolaevna and you will treat her with the respect she is due. She may not be Empress, but she is still of the Royal Bloodlines and I would imagine once the Royals in Europe get word, they will be most eager to offer her a warm welcome.”

“She’s an American!” Ivan spat. 

Karl just grinned and pressed the button on his desk and a moment later Faith entered the room, with Bruce and Angel at her heels. 

“Mr. Wayne!”

“Hello, Ivan. It’s been a while.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m with Faith. We are involved.”

Ivan paled as he looked at the young woman, who was staring at him with a stony expression on her pretty face. 

There was no fear, nor intimidation. 

“Eto pozor dlya mamy rossii!” 

(This is a disgrace to Mother Russia!)

“Kakim obrazom? 

(In what way?)

Ivan’s expression fell, and he swallowed at the harsh growl emanating from the billionaire next to the woman whom, if Karl was to be believed, was the Romanov Heiress.

“Vy govorite na rodnom yazyke?”

(You speak the Mother tongue?)

“Da, moya babushka i mama nastoyali, chtoby ya izuchil eto. Oni chuvstvovali, chto dlya menya bylo vazhno otsenit' moye naslediye i to, otkuda rodom moya sem'ya.” 

(Yes, my grandmother and mother insisted I learn it. They felt it was important for me to appreciate my heritage and where my family came from)

“I’m surprised.” Ivan admitted reluctantly, in English. 

“My babushka read to me many old stories of the Russian fairy tales.”

“Oh? And did you have a favorite?”

“Baba Yaga, actually. My dogs are named, Baba and Yaga.”

Ivan cracked a smile. “Are they now? And just what kind of dogs are they?”

“Trained killer Rottweilers.”

The man swallowed uncomfortably and one look at the smug expression on Bruce Wayne’s face, let him know the young Romanov wasn’t lying. 

“Have they killed?”

“I usually don’t let them get that far.” She took out her phone and brought up a picture. “Would you like to see them? They’re adorable.”

Ivan nodded and allowed the young woman to show him her dogs. He couldn’t help but grin however, as the picture showed the two hulking dogs lounging on their owners lap. 

“They almost look harmless.”

“I’m sure that’s what the last guy thought.”

“And who might that be?”

She glanced at Bruce and cracked a smirk. “What was his name again?”

“He goes by the Chechen.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Ivan choked on his saliva. 

“Well, I should probably share the truth with you.”

“Which _is_?”

She turned to Angel, who’s face morphed from the handsome one he normally showed, to the vicious vampiric face of Angelus. 

“This is Angelus.”

“The Scourge of Europe?”

Angel shrugged, as his face shifted back. They’d decided to share the truth with this man. If he held any sway within his government, he’d likely go back and tell them it would be in their best interests to back the fuck off. Giles had agreed, as had Buffy. That phone conversation had been rather hysterical. 

_**  
Flashback** _

**_“What the fuck, Faith?” Buffy screeched, as soon as she answered the phone._ **

**_“Hey, B. Good to hear your voice, too. Am I on speaker?”_ **

**_“Yes!” Several voices shouted in succession._ **

**_“Is it true?” Buffy’s voice asked lowly._ **

**_“It is. We just got the DNA back.”_ **

**_“Wow!”_ **

**_Faith could hear the excited voices of all the girls, and she smiled as they all seemed genuinely happy for her._ **

**_“I’m calling for a reason though. Well, besides the obvious.”_ **

**_“What do you need, Faith?” Giles asked._ **

**_“The Russian Consulate General is coming here within the hour. There’s gonna be a press conference tomorrow morning and all the news outlets will...well, I’m gonna be front page news.”_ **

**_“Kinda takes away the anonymity of being a Slayer, Faith.” Buffy said succinctly._ **

**_“I know, B. And I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”_ **

**_“Don’t apologize, you bitch. This is so cool!”_ **

_**“Yeah?”** _

**_“Definitely.”_ **

**_“The Head of Bank Suisse thinks the Russian Government might give me some problems, or maybe try to have me killed.”_ **

**_“Good luck with that.” Rona’s sarcastic voice sounded from the background, and everyone snickered._ **

**_“Thanks, Rona.”_ **

**_“Five by five, Faith.”_ **

**_“You want to tell him the truth?” Giles guessed, and she affirmed his supposition._ **

**_There was a few moments of silence, but when Buffy spoke...her voice was amused._ **

_**“Scare the shit out of him, Faith. Let them know just whom they’ll be dealing with.”** _

_**“You got it, B. See you in a few days. And thanks.”** _

_**“Not a problem. Stay safe.”** _

_**The phone went dead and Bruce grinned knowingly as she rubbed her hands together.  
**_

_**This was gonna get good...** _

_**  
End Flashback** _

  
“I don’t understand?” Ivan queried hopelessly. 

“Allow me to give you the rundown, Ivan...I _can_ call you Ivan, right?” Faith asked menacingly. 

The older Russian didn’t know what to say, but he nodded stiltedly.

“Are you familiar with the old tale of Emelya and the Pike?”

“I am.”

“How he was cast away, and came back to rule the kingdom?”

“I am.” Ivan’s voice cracked. 

“Are you familiar with the _Ubiysta_?”

“The Slayer of old legend? The Chosen of the Shadow.”

“The very one.”

“What does that have to do with this?”

“I, am _she_.”

“That is not possible!” Ivan belted out strongly. 

“Angel, is this true?”

“ _So true._ ” The vampire folded his arms and grinned malevolently. “I would listen well, Ivan Lebedev—and understand this, for I will only say it once. If you, or your government try and come after Faith, I promise you—how I laid waste to Europe for over two hundred years? That will be _nothing_ compared to what I will do when I come for you and yours. I run Wolfram and Hart globally, I _have_ the resources.”

Ivan processed the information and then said haltingly, “I will pass on your warnings.” He looked upon Faith Lehane with newfound interest as he inquired simply, “Karl shared you have the necklace and a photo, would you mind if I have a look at them both?”

“Of course.” 

She carefully took out the box from her bag, and set it down on the table before taking a seat back on the couch. Ivan sat across from her and Bruce took out his laptop and brought up the screen shots that Lucius had given him. Ivan slowly opened the box and took out the photo, his eyes widening with emotion as he gazed down in wonder at the likeness of Anastasia Romanova. His finger gently touched the necklace in the picture, before his eyes drifted back on the actual necklace in the box. He took it out and set the two items side by side. Faith could tell he was having a hard time, and she had to wonder what he was thinking. He turned the photo around, his eyes widening at the date on the back and then Bruce slid his laptop around, and the screen showed the two versions of Anastasia. 

One at sixteen, and the other at twenty. 

“It’s _true_.” The Russian said emotively, his blue eyes lifting to take in the woman across from him. As he _really_ looked at her, he could see the resemblance to her prababushka. He cleared his throat and then pulled out his cell phone and hit #2 on the speed dial, and then set it on speaker. 

A deep voice answered immediately, resonating over the room, speaking in Russian. 

“Ivan, I’ve been waiting for your call.”

“Premier.”

“What word do you have?”

“She is the real thing.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Ivan glanced at everyone placing a finger over his lips in warning. 

She nodded, impressed with the man’s subterfuge as she avidly listened in. 

“What _proof_ do they have?”

“They have the exhumed remains of the Grand Duchess, Anastasia Nickolaevna Romanova along with a photo dated from 1921. She is wearing the necklace from her last official portrait.”

“And the necklace itself.”

“Also in possession.”

There was a pregnant pause and she could hear shuffling on the other line. 

“Without the actual portrait, it’s conjecture.”

“They have a picture of it somehow from the Hermitage. I’ve seen the two photos side by side. There is no doubt, Premier—they are one and the same.”

“And the DNA?”

“Confirmed.”

“You’ve spoken with the girl?”

“I have.”

“And?”

“It’s complicated.”

“In what way?” The Premier scoffed. “She’s an American, how much trouble can she be to get rid of?”

“More than you might think. She’s the Slayer, Sir.”

The silence was deafening. 

“ _That is not possible!”_

“Yet, it is. She has the backing of the vampire Angelus, as well as Bruce Wayne. They are romantically involved. My guess? She also has the full support of the IWC, as I can’t imagine she would’ve told me the truth, without their knowledge.”

“The IWC was left in shambles back in 2002.”

“It’s reformed, Sir. With the full backing of Wolfram and Hart, which is now run by Angelus. Sir, is this truly a fight you wish to engage in?”

There was another weighted pause, and then the Premier began to chuckle deeply. 

“If I didn’t know you as well as I _do_ , Ivan—I’d think you were having a go at me.”

“I’m not an imbecile, Vlad.”

“No, you’re not. _But you are a politician.”_

Another pause followed and then...

“My Dear _Nickolaevna_ , I must say—I’d never imagined this day might come, and yet—here we are?”

Everyone turned their attention to Faith, and she shook her head before replying in perfect Russian... 

“It was a surprise for me, too.”

She heard a loud clap over the phone and then a booming laugh, and she couldn’t help but smile softly. 

“You are the Slayer?”

“I am.”

“The _Chosen One?_ ”

“No, that honor goes to my Sister Slayer, Elizabeth.”

Angel choked on a cough, while Bruce looked confused as he mouthed, ‘ _Elizabeth_?’

“Tell you later?” She whispered and he nodded. 

“I don’t understand.” The Premier’s words came back over the speaker phone. 

“Are you familiar with the destruction of Sunnydale, in California?”

Another silence and then more papers shuffling and a computer keyboard being typed into. 

“Ah, it was destroyed by an earthquake?”

“No, it was destroyed because there was a Hell Mouth located there. My Sister Slayer and I used our powers and activated the Potential Slayers from all around the world. There are now many Slayers. All with my powers and all loyal to _me_.”

Another deep silence followed and then more chuckling was heard. 

“Well _played_ , my dear Nickolaevna. So, what might you be suggesting?”

“Well, that’s up to you. We could be allies, or enemies, but I’ve killed over three hundred vamps, two hundred demons and a bunch of monsters since I was called at sixteen. I’m twenty-six now. If you’re gonna come after me, I only suggest you make the _first time count_ because if you don’t? Well, I’m sure you understand.”

She wasn’t exactly surprised by the raucous laughter on the other end of the call, and even Ivan was nodding at her impressed. 

“You truly _are_ Russian! Only a Russian would do something so bold!”

“I’d like to think I have the best parts of my prababushka in me. She must’ve loved Russia very much to teach my babushka and my mom about the traditions of her forefathers. Even after everything.”

“I would tend to agree.” Vlad admitted kindly, before he starting talking in hushed tones to someone in the room with him. When he got back on the line, his voice was indulgent. “We will not contest this. However, I would only agree to do so with one caveat.”

“And that is?”

“You will come home to visit, and stand side by side with me. Let our people see that the past can finally be laid to rest.”

“And I have your solemn word you’ll not seek to harm me or any future kids I might have?”

“You have my _word_ , Nickolaevna.”

“Then I’ll look forward to it.”

After the call ended, Karl clapped proudly, as Ivan smirked in commiseration. 

“He _likes_ you.”

“Really? He’s not trying to lull me into a false sense of security before the hatchet comes down?”

“No. He might have a few words for me later, but he appreciates a good strategy. He’s also a _realist_. He won’t move against you, not with the backing you have. It wouldn’t look good for him politically, if something were to happen to you.”

“That’s true.” Bruce agreed. “The royal families in Europe might have a thing or two to say about that.”

“Oh, crap!” She whispered. “Some are them are kind of like family now, right?”

“Oh, yes.” Angel snickered. 

“Get that look off your face, you twit!”

“Ouch!” Angel rubbed his arm where she’d smacked him. “That bloody hurt.”

“You’re lucky I don’t do worse. I don’t even know how to be a lady?”

“You could always take lessons, my dear? It never hurts to learn etiquette. Even if it is a chore.” Ivan replied with a wink. 

“Thanks, Ivan. I think I liked you better when you were _sneering_ at me.”

The laughter in the room was infectious, before Ivan stood and went over to Karl’s desk to sign the release. It was notarized and filed with the Bank and when Ivan took his leave, he placed a gentle kiss on the back of Faith’s knuckles in parting. 

“I look forward to the Press Conference tomorrow. I will send a stylist from the consulate over to see to your wardrobe.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re welcome, Your Grace.”

“Gods! You’re just the _worst_!”

Ivan chuckled, as he shook Angel’s hand and then Bruce’s. 

“You’re going to have your hands full with that one.” He whispered to Bruce in a conspiratorial tone. 

“Tell me about it.”


	18. Not Second Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning home to Gotham, Faith discovers a startling truth.

The plane ride back to Gotham found Faith snuggled into Bruce’s side while he kissed her temple repeatedly, as she came out of her nap. The news conference had gone off without a hitch, for the most part. Faith had been her usual disarming self and the press had adored her self-deprecating wit. Ivan had been there as the Russian representative; and Karl—for Bank Suisse and the Swiss Government. Bruce had been off to the side, but he’d noticed several cameras pointing in his direction, as well as photographers taking shots for their papers. 

The speculation would now begin in earnest. 

The photographs of Anastasia that Bruce had, were enlarged and utilized as Faith wore the necklace proudly around her throat. The Russian Government had released a statement expressing their ‘ _genuine surprise_ ’ and ‘ _happy acceptance_ ’ of Faith’s heritage being confirmed. The Russian Premier even sent her a beautiful two-headed eagle ruby pin, that she wore on the Chanel Suit that he’d bought for her. 

Before they’d left Zurich, several calls had come in from the noblesse all over Europe. Karl had fielded the calls, and Bruce had told him to defer them to Wayne Enterprises Press Secretary for the time being. When he’d mentioned to Faith that she would likely need to hire a personal assistant, she’d stuck her tongue out at him and told him to ‘ _can_ ’ it.

“So much for being a shut in.” She yawned out petulantly. 

“I’m sure once the novelty dies down, you can go back to being your antisocial self in no time.”

“ _Yeah, right_.”

“How are you, really?”

“I’m okay. I’m sure it will hit me like a ton of bricks tomorrow, but for right now, I’m perfectly content.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that. I’m just impressed with how well you’ve handled everything. You keep surprising me, Gorgeous.”

“Is that a good thing?”

He tilted her head up and placing urgent kisses on her lips, murmuring inbetween, “It’s the best thing.”

“It’s going to be a zoo when we get back to Gotham, isn’t it?”

“ _Yes_.”

“And you’re really okay with it?”

“You mean being linked as your new boy toy?”

Faith threw back her head and laughed hysterically, causing him to grab her and lift her over his lap, settling her into his embrace, grinning wolfishly down at her. 

“ _Boy toy?”_

“What? You _do_ have a contract.”

“That I do, Wayne. I’m just wondering how I’m going to go about Slaying with my mug plastered all over the tube.”

“Well, do you still have that mask?”

“I do, but I’m not sure it’s me.”

“Oh?”

“Nah?” She perked up in interest. “Maybe you could make me a bat mask too? I could be bat girl? Bat woman? _Bat slayer_?”

He chuckled deeply and shook his head. “That’s...” he paused and his brow furrowed as he seriously considered the idea. “Not a terrible thought.”

“Really?”

“We can discuss it more when we get home.”

“Home?”

“Well, that’s something you’ll need to decide too, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you plan on moving back to Cleveland after the Joker is dealt with?”

“Gods, no! I hated Cleveland.”

“Then how about staying in Gotham?”

“I suppose that might work. The apartment I’m in could be big enough...”

“Nope. Nice try, Gorgeous—but you’re going to need better security than that.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. My building has a nice apartment two levels down.”

“Oh, like that’s not going to cause _all the tongues wagging._ ”

“Maybe?”

“I’m not going to be some kept woman, Wayne.”

“Faith, if the initial portfolio Karl gave me is any indication, you’ll have more net worth than I do.”

“ _Seriously_?”

“Yes.”

“That’s kind of ridiculous, you know.”

“It can seem that way. But you can do some amazing things with those resources.”

“I’m sending some money Giles way to finance the IWC and the training of potentials. That’s a good use of money, don’t you think?”

“Yes.”

Faith sighed as she leant over and kissed him again, feeling his body responding instantly to her overtures. “How much time until we land?”

“Less than an hour.”

“Drat! I so wanted to take advantage of you.”

“Vixen! You can when we get back home. I’ll even let you tie me up?”

She perked up. “Really? I did ask a friendly birdie to pick up a few discreet things for me while I was gone.”

He lifted an eyebrow in disbelief, inquiring, “Such as?”

“You’ll see. Just promise me you’ll be open to my ideas.”

His head plopped back on the sofa, as he groaned in defeat. 

“Tell me now and I’ll consider it.”

“Well, a few things I got two of, one for you and one for me—but most of it is for you.”

“Such as?”

“Nipple clamps, riding crop, flogger, handcuffs, candles, spreader bar, anal plug, blindfold and a cock ring.”

His eyes lifted as he considered all those things, and then felt himself getting surprisingly aroused. 

“ _Yes_ to the clamps, handcuffs and cock ring. The others, I’ll think about. Which things did you get duplicates of?”

“The nipple clamps, candles and spreader bar.”

“Oh?”

“I figured I’d give the last one a try for you. I’m also trying to work my way to being open to some of the other things too.”

“Such as?”

“Blindfold and handcuffs.” 

He nodded then kissed Faith again, slowly and with feeling—letting her know how much he appreciated her willingness to try for him. 

“It’s a work in progress for both of us, Gorgeous. But I’m willing to remain open and see where it takes us.”

“Me too.”

“Good.” He then tilted his head in thought. “Would you be open to trying Shibari?”

“I don’t know? I think I’d have to see it in action first.”

“Hmm, I think I might know a way. It’s a form of suspension, though your hands and legs can be somewhat mobile. You’d still have some control over your limbs, but it’s more about orgasm denial and submission.”

“I’ve never submitted before. At least, not like that.”

“Just keep an open mind, alright?”

“Okay.”

He got quiet for a moment and then asked warily, “About what Angel said?”

“I was kinda hoping you’d forgot about that.”

“Not likely. I do understand if you’re not ready to tell me yet.”

“Honestly the story is so convoluted and maybe someday I’ll share it, but all you need to know is when I finally came to terms with my bad choices and how fucked up I was, I wasn’t in a good place. Angel saved me in a way. Took care of me. Even went against Buffy for me.”

“They were involved?”

“First love kind of stuff.” She shrugged. “Angel was cursed over 100 years ago by the Romani as payment for him killing one of their own. They returned his soul.”

“That’s...”

“Wild, I know.”

“So they aren’t together?”

“Nope. Angel and Buffy will always love each other, but they’re not in love with each other anymore. Sounds like someone else you know?”

“Yes.” He smirked. “Nice distraction too, but I suppose it’s a fair analogy.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t contacted you.”

“Because of your press conference?”

“Yeah.”

“I turned my phone off right before the announcement and I haven’t checked it since. I'd figured once we've landed, I’ll turn it back on and let the world descend, but for now, it’s just us.”

“For another twenty minutes?”

Right at that moment, his pilot Alex, made the announcement they were starting their landing process.

“Oh joy.” Faith deadpanned while he set her into the proper seat and buckled her in, before settling in his spot. 

She decided for the next few moments of silence, she was just not going to think about what was to come, but try to enjoy this moment for what it was. 

Despite everything, the last few days had been the best of her life. 

“Thank you.” She whispered out hesitantly, catching Bruce’s attention. 

He smiled and replied, “You’re welcome, Gorgeous.”

When the plane finally landed and taxi’d into the Gotham International Airport, she let out the heavy sigh she’d been holding in. She didn’t want to do this, but knew deep down she didn’t have a choice. She’d chosen to accept her heritage, and for good or bad? 

She would have to face what ever happened now.

Bruce’s plane moved to the private part of the airport, where she could see Lucius waiting with a full security detail. Beyond the gate, was a slew of reporters. 

“Really?”

“Oh, this is nothing. Like I said before, you might want to think about hiring someone to handle your correspondence.”

“You have a Press Secretary?”

“Yes, and he is handling it for now, but...”

“No, I get it and I don’t want to intrude on his work for your company. It was more than generous of you to help me with this.”

“Faith...I’m happy to help. Maybe Eric can find someone for you? He’s been with my company for over fifteen years and he’s very good.”

“You don’t think he’d mind?”

“No, in fact I think once you meet him...you’ll realize just how thrilled he’ll be.”

“Okay?” 

She was confused, but her musings were cut short when the pilot gave the all clear. He came back and opened to door to the tarmac and nodded with a grin. 

“Good luck, Miss Lehane.”

“Thanks, Alex. You’ve been a peach.”

The man chuckled and gave his employer a firm nod in parting. 

Bruce went down the stairs first, and it was utter bedlam, as he could hear the reporters calling out his name. There were probably a hundred of them easily. There were also news trucks too, from several national affiliate stations all over the country. He turned around and waited for Faith to follow him, which she eventually did. She’d placed on a large pair of sunglasses on her face, and the second she came into view...the crowd _roared_.

To her credit she didn’t hesitate, nor acknowledge the press in any way—she just took his hand and allowed him to walk her to where Lucius was waiting. 

“Lucius.”

“Mr. Wayne.” He opened the door for Faith and said kindly, “Welcome back, Your Grace.”

“Stop it, Lucius.” Faith hissed petulantly, “None of that!”

The man smiled and helped her in, allowed his employer to follow and then went around the other side to get in the front passenger side next to the driver. 

Once they were settled, the car took off and the security cars led and followed them out of the airport. 

As they went through the throng of reporters and press, she sighed. They couldn’t see anything through the darkened windows of the Limo, but it wasn’t for lack of trying as the amount of cameras were ridiculous, but not wholly unexpected. 

They made their way towards Bruce’s Penthouse, where Alfred would be waiting with news. 

Bruce turned on his phone with a deep breath and then snorted at how many messages he had waiting for him. 

“So?”

“You really want to know?”

“Sure.”

“I have fifteen voice mails, which means my box is full. Three hundred new emails easily, which may be about work too, so there is that.” His brow furrowed and he sighed and said flatly, “123 new texts.”

“Shit!”

He listened to the voice mails first. There was one from Alfred stating there was a pressing issue for him when he returned. That was code for Batman. The next several were from Wayne Board members, two from his secretary and the last one from Rachel.

He scrolled through his emails, and saw one from Daggett...and that made him smirk. Most were about the company, but there were many from those within Gotham’s society, inviting him to events and to bring his plus one. He shook his head at that too.

When he checked his texts however, there were six from Rachel alone. A few from Giles, one from Buffy and at least a dozen from Eric.

“So?” He heard Faith’s voice ask, and he looked up and shrugged. 

“About what I’d expected. Invitations to society events, and a request for me to bring a plus one. It would be considered uncouth to come out and say...”

“Bring the Royal?”

“That too.” He chuckled. 

“Anything else?”

“Eric texted. You’ve received some direct correspondence he wishes to go over. He even offered to help you find someone to work with.”

“Sounds like a good guy.”

“He is.” He cocked his head and then said lowly, “Rachel left a voice mail and texts.”

“I’d have been surprised if she hadn’t.”

He sucked in his bottom lip and scrolled back to the voicemails, hitting the speaker and letting Rachel’s voice fill the back of the limousine.

_**Bruce...are you kidding me right now? This is the reason? I don’t know whether to be surprised or offended. I thought you weren’t that shallow.** _

He looked up and saw the angry expression on Faith’s face. 

He instantly deleted the message. 

“Sorry.” He said coldly, but she just waved him off. 

“I get why she might jump to conclusions, _but come on_ , Wayne? Isn’t she supposed to be the person who knows you better than anyone?”

“ _Yes_.”

Faith didn’t reply, she just rolled her eyes for effect and turned to look out the window. 

He had to admit, that Faith made an excellent point. Rachel should’ve known him better, and the fact she’d made the leap she had, hurt him more than he cared to admit. 

He scrolled through her texts and it was more of the same. 

He slammed down his phone in disgust. 

“It’s _not okay,_ for the record.” Faith’s voice was hesitant, but when he looked over at her, she was still staring out the opposite window next to her. 

“What isn’t?”

“It’s not okay for people to use your emotions against you. Guilt, love, friendship...whatever they are? It’s not okay. She’s upset, I get that. I suppose I should feel sorry for her, but I don’t. I’m more worried about you, and how this is hurting you.”

She then turned to face him, and her eyes were bright with feeling. “You’re a _good_ man, Bruce Wayne. You’ve made the hard choices, sacrificed parts of yourself to help others and something tells me you’ve never asked much for yourself in return. You want to honor your parents memories, just as much as you want to forgive yourself and stop the guilt. I can relate. Being a kid and seeing what we’ve seen, it takes something from you that you can never get back. For those who haven’t had to deal, they just don’t get it. It’s not something you can explain, and it’s not something you can ever forget and package away because others find it inconvenient or uncomfortable. She wants you to be someone I don’t think you know how to be anymore, and it makes you feel guilty, because you care for her. But you have to stop sacrificing pieces of yourself for other people’s happiness, Bruce. Life is too fucking hard as is, without putting that bullshit on yourself.”

He sat back utterly floored, as he listened to Faith’s very accurate assessment of not only his emotional state, but what he’d been doing to himself and why. 

“ _ **How do you do that?”**_

“I told you, it’s a gift that most don’t appreciate. When you spend your life as a nobody, living in the shadows? You get to watch the world from a distance and observe. You see how others deal, and why they do what they do. It’s given me a unique perspective and also lets me keep my distance.”

“Is that what you want? To keep your distance?”

“From you?”

He nodded and watched Faith considering him carefully as she took in p his body language, which was a mixture of aggression and resignation and she shook her head. 

“I don’t want to. For the first time in my life, I want to try.”

He smiled in relief and pulled her into his side, lifting her face up to his and kissing her breathless. She returned his onslaught with equal intensity and after a bit, she pulled back and sighed in contentment. 

“So? We’re really doing this?”

“Yes, Gorgeous—we _really_ are.”

“Okay.”

Arriving at Bruce’s Penthouse was just as much of a cluster as the airport had been. There were news reporters camped outside, with vans and cameras littering the sidewalk across the entrance to the building. There were even interested onlookers, who had cameras of their own, hoping to get a shot of the newest Royal.

“This is _ludicrous_.” She hissed, as the limo turned into the underground parking garage. “You know? Now that I have an obscene amount of money, maybe I can buy an island and move to where no one can find me?”

He chuckled at the hopeful look on Faith’s face, even as he shook his head in the negative. 

“And where does that leave me, Gorgeous?”

“You have a plane? Can you fly it?”

“Yes, I do have my pilots and helicopter licenses.”

“Of course, you do.” She mocked with a snort. 

The car stopped and he got out, walking around to let his Slayer out of the limo. He held her hand over to the elevator and then scanned them both into his security system. 

“There, now your fingerprint will allow you to come and go as you please.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t seem too bothered by that, as they made their way up to his Penthouse. The bag over her shoulder had her necklace and the photo of her prababushka...while he had his briefcase with his laptop. The rest of their luggage would be brought up later by his driver. 

When the elevator door opened, Alfred was waiting. 

“Welcome home, Master Wayne. Miss Faith.”

“Hey, Alfred!”

The butler smiled, nodded and then handed Bruce that days paper. On the front page was a picture of he and Faith. When he went to ask what it was Alfred wanted him to see, the man said...”turn to page three.”

He walked over to the counter and set down his briefcase, before doing as Alfred instructed, and he hissed in a shocked breath when he saw the article. 

**_Gambol killed, Bar burnt to the Ground_ **

“When did this happen?”

“Night before last. There’s more, Master Wayne.” 

Alfred went over to the computer terminal and punched in the key code, bringing up their link with Gotham PD. It took only a moment and then a grainy image appeared on the screen. 

Bruce sat down on the stool, as he took in the still form of the man on the monitor. He clearly looked disturbed, with a wide deranged smile on his face. There were two obvious scars on either side of his mouth, that made his grin look that much more unsettling. 

But it was the clown makeup that made him look like a freak. 

_This was the Joker._

“Bruce?” Faith queried, as she walked over to where he was sitting down at. She’d walked up behind him, so he didn’t see her face...

...but Alfred did. 

“Miss Faith? _Are you alright?”_

He whipped around and saw Faith’s ashen expression and noticed her body visibly shaking. 

“ _Faith_?”

He went to reach for her, but she flinched back hard. He gave Alfred a worried look, and then flitted his eyes towards the kitchen. Alfred understood the silent message and moved out of the room. 

“Faith?” He whispered, standing up, approaching her like he would a wild animal. “What is it?”

“That’s _**him**_.” She choked out, her voice trembling and he took notice of her clenching and unclenching her fists in fast movements. 

“Who?”

“ _Jack Napier.”_

“ _What?”_ He turned back and took in the picture again, his eyes widening in sudden understanding of just how the Joker had gotten at least part of his scars. 

“The Joker?” She asked, and he nodded. Her bark of disgust was filled with anger. “That sick fuck! I gave him the scar on the right, but he must’ve done the other one himself. Or maybe someone else decided to give him a matched set.”

He didn’t reply, but the one thing that stood out the most was the fact that if Faith recognized the Joker, then there was a very good chance—Jack Napier remembered her too.

“Do you think he’d come after you?”

“Yes. He was a sick bastard even then, but if he really is this Joker then I’d say it’s fairly certain he would try.”

“Was Jack Napier a demon?”

“No. Human...” Faith’s eyes widened. “Which means...”

“He’s probably not the one behind what’s going on.”

“No. He’s likely working for whoever is.”

He immediately held out his hand, and Faith took it—allowing him to pull her into his arms and hold her. Her gaze was fixated on the image however, and he could almost see her mind whirring away. 

“What are you thinking?”

“You’re so not going to like it.”

His brow furrowed momentarily, and then he shook his head emphatically in comprehension. 

“You’re not offering yourself up as bait.” He growled in warning.

“Bruce...”

“No, Faith! There’s got to be another way!”

“There really isn’t and you know it. If we do this on our terms, we can get the jump on him. Trust me, this is going to work.”

He knew it wouldn’t do him any good to argue with Faith. 

He could see the raw determination in her eyes. 

“Fine. But for the record? I think this is a bad idea.”

“Noted.”

He reached out his hand and shut off the computer screen, leading Faith into the kitchen to where Alfred had gone. 

“Something smells good.”

“Alfred made dinner. He likes to cook, but when it’s just the two of us he keeps it fairly simple.”

As they entered the kitchen, the man in question was sautéing some vegetables, and there was a pot of pasta bubbling on the stove.

“Something smells good.” Faith quipped again to Alfred, as he held out a chair for her to sit down on the other side of the kitchen counter. 

“Pasta primavera.” Alfred replied, checking the pasta and nodding to himself, taking it off the heat and draining it in a colander in the sink. 

“Do you need some help?”

“No, Miss Faith. Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes if you want to freshen up.”

“Five by five.”

Faith jumped down and dashed upstairs, leaving Bruce and Alfred alone. 

“Did Miss Faith tell you what had her so spooked?”

“The Joker. Apparently, his given name is Jack Napier. Run a search for me Alfred, and see what you can find on him.”

“I’ll get right on that after dinner, Master Wayne.” Alfred was putting the finishing touches on the pasta sauce when he said reluctantly, “Miss Rachel stopped by yesterday evening.”

“Oh?”

“She seems to be taking your estrangement rather personally.”

“That’s because _it is personal_ , Alfred. I spoke with her right before Faith found out the results of the DNA testing. She left a rather harsh message after the announcement, essentially accusing me of being with Faith because of her heritage.”

“I see,” Alfred plated dinner and set a serving down for his charge, “and how did you take that supposition?”

“I found it offensive. Rachel should’ve known better.”

“Perhaps.” Alfred handed him a set of utensils and went to grab a bottle of chilled white wine from the cooler. “However, the truth of the situation is such that some people may try and make that speculation, whether it’s based in fact or not. You’ve never been on the other side of such gossip, Master Wayne—due to whom you are because of your wealth and status. Now you are involved with a young woman who I’m assuming, is wealthier than you are, as well as a member of the European Royal bloodlines. I would’ve been surprised if there wasn’t some unsavory conjecture.”

He hummed in thought, as he considered Alfred’s words. Pouring the wine into three glasses, he wondered how Faith would handle it when the full financials were released in a weeks time. Karl had shown them both a cursory prospectus, when she’d drafted her will yesterday morning, but still—he was fairly certain the numbers were likely more than twice what was reflected on those papers.

“Faith drafted a will.” He admitted quietly. “Karl gave her a brief financial rundown of what she might be looking at. That being said, that money has been sitting in the bank and been invested for nearly a century.”

“If you had to hazard a guess?”

He just shook his head. “I’m thinking her net worth will easily be more than double that of Wayne Enterprises.” 

Alfred’s eyes widened in shock as he sat down, stunned. “She’s going to be a target. It’s a good thing she can take care of herself.”

“I know. She could live off the interest of her wealth for hundreds of years and never even touch the principal, but something tells me she wouldn’t care either way. The one person in all the world who would’ve been happier if the test results had been negative, is the one person who ends up being the Grand Duchess Nickolaevna.”

“And that impresses you, Master Wayne.” His butler stated matter-of-factly.

“More than I can say, Alfred. Even if this had turned out differently, the truth is, I would’ve never had to wonder with Faith...if she was only interested in me because of my wealth. I know she’s not, and that is such a rarity. I’m still having a tough time processing it.”

“And you don’t care about Miss Faith’s?”

“Not in the least.” He chuckled with wry amusement. “Actually, I’m kind of looking forward to being viewed as her...”

“Boy toy?” Faith interrupted, and Alfred choked out a stunned cough, while he glanced over his shoulder and grinned. 

“ _That too.”_

“Good to know.” She moved into the kitchen, as her stomach rumbled in hunger. “Looks good, Alfred.”

“Come sit down and eat, Miss Faith. You must be famished.” 

“Thanks, Alfred. I am kinda hungry.” 

She perched next to Bruce and nudged him playfully with her shoulder, earning a swift kiss on her temple for good measure.

Dinner was consumed with relish, and the conversation was minimal. Once the settings were cleared, Bruce excused he and Faith, and they made their way upstairs. 

“I really should go back to mine and get some clothes,” she admitted, “do you think that’s possible?”

“How about you call Buffy, and see if they can bring some here?”

“And what about my dogs?”

He shook his head in defeat, capitulating, “I suppose they can come too.”

Faith jumped enthusiastically into his arms and kissed him hard, a sentiment which he returned with equal veracity. When she was done, she allowed him to set her down and rushed to make the call. 

An hour later, Bruce’s Penthouse was besieged by two large Rottweilers and three more Slayers: Vi, Buffy and Rona and he watched fondly as the four of them sat around the living room, gossiping about he and Faith’s trip, while Alfred kept them supplied with snacks and drinks. 

As he sat there brushing up on his portfolio for the meeting tomorrow with Lau, he chuckled when he felt one of Faith’s dogs come over and place his large head on his knee, begging for a bit of attention. 

He set his paperwork down and rubbed under the dogs ears, the beasts tongue lolling out happily, nuzzling into the gesture. 

“He likes you.” Faith quipped and he glanced up, immediately noticing all eyes were now trained on him. 

“What’s not to like?” He replied back playfully, “Which one is he?”

“That’s Baba.”

Yaga apparently, was perfectly content lying on the floor between Faith and Violet, who was scratching behind his ears. 

“How did you manage to turn them so quickly?” He queried, as he’d been more than curious about that for a while. 

Buffy smirked, but Faith just rolled her eyes. 

“It’s a gift.” Faith replied and both Vi and Rona scoffed, causing his gaze to narrow. 

“What am I missing?”

“She’s being a stooge,” Rona admonished, “her telepathy is more advanced than she let’s on.”

“Rona!”

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

Faith averted her eyes, and Buffy could see how uncomfortable she was—but when the blonde Slayer glanced over at Wayne, he seemed to be simply processing. 

“It’s not like that Rona, and you know it.” Faith gritted out.

The black girl huffed, but didn’t reply either and now he really felt out of the loop. 

“Telepathy is the ability to speak into one’s mind, correct?”

“Not exactly.” Faith replied evenly, her voice low. “It’s the ability to communicate using heightened senses. Yes, Buffy and I can communicate silently with each other, as can Willow. Willow however, can only do so with use of a spell, but in her case, she can communicate over much larger distances than either of us.”

“So when you mean heightened senses?”

Faith didn’t immediately respond, so Violet did for her.

“Once Faith gets a sense of who you are, she can _feel_ you coming even if she can’t see you. She can pick up distinct patterns, smells, sounds even in a loud crowded room. Even if she doesn’t know the person, she can still feel people before she sees them.”

He sat back in shock, taking in Faith’s body language—which was on edge. 

“I’d imagine that’s rather handy when fighting.” He nodded thoughtfully, as certain things were starting to make a bit more sense. He then turned to Buffy and asked curiously, “What about you, Buffy?”

“I can read people’s emotions as well. Faith would likely have that ability too, if she didn’t...”

“ _We’re done here!_ ” Faith stood up hastily and strode purposefully out of the room, both dogs following after her, clearly sensing her distress.

“Nice one, Buffy.” Rona mocked. 

“She really needs to....”

“Buffy?” He interrupted lowly, and the blonde turned to him with a wary look, “I don’t know much about your background with Faith, but she did share a few things with me while we were in Zurich. Some people are inherently better with their emotions, and have been able to grow up in environments where it’s safe to not only express them, but let other people see them. Faith hasn’t had that in her life, so just a word of advice? Cut her some slack?”

Both Rona and Violet grinned, while Buffy nodded in slow comprehension. 

“She _actually_ talked to you?”

“In her defense, I might’ve initially overheard her talking with Angel first, before she opened up to me.”

“He was _there_?”

He nodded, and saw Buffy’s expression drop noticeably, but all she said was, “I’m glad he was there for her.” She then stood up and finished, “I’m going to go talk to Faith.”

They all watched the diminutive blonde Slayer walk confidently out of the room, and he sighed before he gripped his paperwork and proceeded to pick back up where he’d left off. After a few tense moments of silence, Violet’s soft voice broke the quiet. 

“Mr. Wayne?”

Hazel eyes lifted to blue, and he nodded for her to continue. 

“I know it’s probably none of our business, but Rona and I? Well, we care a lot about Faith. We know how rough things have been for her, but she’s always taken care of us in her own way. As much as we respect Buffy, and feel she’s a good leader, Faith and Buffy have a really contentious history. Faith has spent years in Buffy’s shadow, and that’s left her feeling...well...”

“Second best?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you telling me this, Violet?”

The red head glanced at Rona, who shrugged and then nodded. 

“Because, Faith told me about Rachel and I just wanted to say that Faith deserves someone who isn’t going to treat her second best. She’s had enough of that in her life from everyone.”

He gazed thoughtfully at the young girl, impressed not only with her devotion to Faith—but her courage in speaking up for her friend. 

“Thank you for saying something, Violet. What Faith and I share is very different than what my previous relationship with Rachel was. At first, I wasn’t so sure that was such a good thing.”

“And now?”

He smiled softly, but his voice was confident as he replied, “I’m beginning to think she’s the best thing to come into my life in a really long time. Does that answer your question?”

“It does. Thank you for being honest.”

“Anytime, Violet.”

The two Slayers stood up and headed in the same direction where Buffy had gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

He was impressed with these young Slayers, having to face so much at such a young age. He also realized too, that Faith was probably more damaged than even he’d suspected and instead of feeling apprehensive about that fact, all he was left with was the desire to try and prove to her that not everyone saw her as second best. 

He was beginning to realize that Faith was quickly becoming a priority for him, and surprisingly, that thought didn’t bother him at all. 

It actually felt natural and right. 

  



	19. Krasivyy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Bruce take the next step in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit chapter dealing with light BDSM themes. If it’s not your thing, please skip it. Thanks!

After the Slayer contingent had left, Bruce found Faith sitting alone in his office, staring out the window with both dogs laying at her feet. 

“Hey, Gorgeous...you okay?”

She glanced over her shoulder and watched Bruce moving effortlessly into the room, taking a seat on the couch next to her—and he inwardly sighed in relief when she cuddled up into his warm embrace. 

“Five by five.”

He smirked. “You say that a lot, you know. I’m assuming you know where that term originates from?”

She hummed and then nodded. “It’s an old military radio slang saying that meant, ‘ _all clear_.’ I suppose, it’s just metaphorical for ‘ _I’m okay,_ ’ and that’s kinda what I use it for.”

“I think you also use it as a defense mechanism when you don’t want to discuss your emotions, am I right?”

She glanced up at him and quirked an eyebrow, wisecracking, “Definitely smarter than you look.”

He chuckled and rolled her over, so her body was trapped underneath his. “You’re trouble.”

“And?” She taunted, “You look like a man who can handle some trouble.”

“Do I?” His previous smirk deepened. “Well, I did make you an offer earlier, if memory serves.”

Her expression gave way her confusion, before sudden comprehension dawned. 

“You’re _serious_?”

“I am.” He winked down at her and then placed a purposeful kiss on her lips. “Unless, you don’t want to?”

“Oh, hell no, Wayne!” She wiggled out from underneath him and stood up, holding out her hand for him—which he took. She then commanded her dogs to ‘ _stay’_ in that dominant tone, that had him instantly sporting a semi...

...which her clever eyes didn’t miss, if the pleased smirk on her face was anything to judge by. 

She led him back into his bedroom, and gestured to the windows questioningly. 

“One way glass.” He stated proudly, and she sniffed with a slight shake of her head, before staring up at him questioningly. 

“What’s your safe word?”

He thought about it for a moment, never having been asked that question before, but he _had_ given it bit of thought. 

He quirked a sly grin and then replied simply, “Bats.”

She nodded, almost as if she’d been expecting that answer. 

“I’m going to go get changed, and I want you to strip and sit on the edge of the bed until I get back.”

“Should I call you, Mistress?”

She snorted. “I actually sort of abhor that term and although I’ve used it exclusively in the past, it doesn’t exactly feel right for us.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. That term cheapens this somehow. I can’t really explain why I feel this way, maybe it was because in the past I’ve never had an emotional connection to any of my past lovers.”

“No, I can see that. So what would you prefer I call you?”

“ _Domina_.”

“Short for Dominatrix, yes?”

“No.”

He was momentarily taken aback. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, well, well! It looks as if ‘ _Mr. Bruce Wayne’_ doesn’t know everything after all!”

His expression broke out into an amused smile, as he gestured with his hand for Faith to explain. 

“In Hindi, Domina is a title for a noblewoman. Kind of like a baroness I suppose?” Faith shook her head. “In any case, as you know it’s very hard to find someone you’re truly sexually compatible with, but it’s even harder to find someone you can trust and want to care for. The term _Domina_ at least from my limited understanding of Hindi, which isn’t much mind you—but it always seemed to me that it came from a place of watching out for those who couldn’t do so for themselves. When it comes to this,” she waved her hand between the two of them, “I said I wanted to try, right?”

He nodded, completely floored. 

Faith always continued to challenge his preconceived notions about whom she was.

“Have you ever thought about using this term before with other lovers?”

She shook her head in the negative. “No. It never felt right until now.”

He gently cupped her head and placed a reverent kiss on her lips. There were no tongues, just gentle reassurance that he wanted this too—whatever this was that was happening between them. 

“Normally, I would expect my submissive on his knees, eyes downward and silent—until given permission to speak. Since this is a new thing for you, we will start with you at the end of the bed, naked, eyes down and you will address me as Domina. Does that work for you?”

“It does.”

“Okay. If at any point I do something that you feel uncomfortable with,” she reached for his hand and had him tap her two times on her arm, “do that. I’ll stop, and we can discuss it. Deal?”

“Deal.”

She cupped his cheek within her palm, and with a firm nod—she disappeared into his closet, grabbed a bag that Buffy must’ve brought with her, and went into the bathroom to change. 

Once he was settled at the edge of his bed, he concentrated on the breathing techniques he’d learned in Nanda Parbat, and waited for Faith to enter. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard her finally move back into the room, and since he couldn’t look up at her, he tried to remain focused on what his senses were telling him. 

She was walking over to his left, setting something down near the lounger he had in the corner...probably whatever was in her bag. He should’ve felt a bit uncomfortable with the thought that Buffy, Vi or Rona had been the ones to procure said items for their alone time, but oddly he didn’t. 

He could hear her readjusting a few things, moving some furniture and that had him intrigued. 

He then smelled her perfume right before he sensed her walking in his direction, and when he finally got a look at her feet, which were now sporting four inch, black strapped leather, stilettos—he felt his mouth watering in anticipation. 

The first touch of her hand carding through his hair, generated an outbreak of goose flesh along his arms and legs. 

It felt _sinfully_ electric...

“Close your eyes.”

He didn’t reply, as he’d learned enough from his research not to respond unless directly prompted to. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a heavenly waft of Faith’s intoxicating scent had his dick twitching. 

He heard her throaty chuckle and sensed her kneeling down in front of him, her hands gripping onto his thighs as she nudged them wide and repositioned herself in between them. Then her finger traced down his cheek before she rubbed something smooth against his bottom lip. 

“ _Open_.”

He immediately complied, and felt something soft being pushed into his mouth. 

His tongue reached out to work around the item, which tasted faintly of mint, but the texture was clearly rubbery in nature. His saliva pooled around the object, which was circular and hollow in the middle. 

He was fairly certain he knew what this was. 

His suspicions were confirmed a few moments later when Faith took the item, which was now slick from his attentions—out of his mouth with one hand, as she grabbed his erection with her other hand and gently, but firmly—pushed the cock ring over the head of his dick and down the shaft...until it was settled at the base of his dick. 

He hissed in a breath as he could feel the constricting nature of the device making his dick throb with a pained ache. 

“Well done, _Krasivyy_.” (Handsome)

He so wanted to smile at the endearment, but he just breathed through his nose as Faith gently rolled his balls in her right hand. Her lips, which he could feel hovering over his neck, finally made direct contract with his skin. The first feeling of sensation, as she bit down on his pulse point, had him tilting his head to the side with a small groan. She then started to place tiny licks and nibbles along his neck, but once she got to his chest—her attentions became more focused as she used the tip of her tongue to circle his left nipple, before she bit down it, causing his dick to throb again and his hips to buck instinctively.

The suspense was heady, and not being able to see what she was doing was both equally arousing and frustrating. 

Faith continued to lave his left nipple perfectly, while she gently started to pump his dick in her hand, taking the precum that had gathered at the tip and using that to aid her movements. She stopped her ministrations on his chest briefly, and when she returned, she bit down on his nipple a second time...but after a moment, he felt a sharp pinch of something hard clamping onto it. 

He hissed in a shocked breath...wondering if she’d actually placed that clamp with her mouth?

His dick throbbed a third time at that thought, which earned him another dark chuckle. 

She then repeated the same set of motions on his right nipple, until he felt the sting of the clamp and his dick twitched again. 

He was completely hard and aching at this point. 

Faith’s body moved into his slightly as she kissed back up his neck and then whispered deeply into his ear, “I want to hear you, Krasivyy.”

Her words were punctuated with a swipe of her fingers along his glans and he groaned again. 

“Good boy.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips.

He felt Faith stand up and sensed that she was now semi-circling him, he could feel the heat of her gaze on every inch of his skin and it was heady. 

She stepped away for a moment that then she was back behind him on the bed, kneeling down and running her hands down his flank, towards his ass. She cupped it possessively and he felt the muscles contracting and tensing as her hands separated his cheeks and her fingers ghosted over his backside. 

Her breath was hot on his neck, and he involuntarily shuddered at the feeling of her lips on his earlobe.

“Kneel down.”

He immediately complied and felt Faith’s body move sinuously behind him again as she ran her hands down his body from front to back.

“Do you trust me?” She whispered into his ear. 

“Yes, Domina.”

“Do you remember the last time we were here, in this room?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Did you enjoy what I did for you? Did you enjoy how I made you beg?”

Her hands spread his ass cheeks again as she asked the question and when she finished it, her thumbs pressed against his rim and he couldn’t stop the groan that erupted from his lips, breathing out, “ _Yes, Domina.”_

“I am going to place a small plug back here, Krasivyy. It’s the same size as my finger. Nod if you are willing to try.”

He took a deep breath and nodded once, remembering that he had enjoyed what she’d done before—and his dick seemed to like the idea too—as it was literally weeping by this point. 

“I’m going to take _such_ good care of you, Krasivyy. Before we begin, I want you to remember a few things for me, can you do that?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Good.” She purred, all the while she kept her hands moving over him, stroking him, tugging lightly on the small chain that he could feel that connected the clamps to his nipples. 

“What’s your safe word?”

“Bats, Domina.”

“Good. And if you feel uncomfortable?”

“Tap twice, Domina.”

“Good. You will tell me when you are about to come and will not do so without my permission. Do you understand, Krasivyy?”

“Yes, Domina.”

Her hands were gone suddenly, causing him to take another shuddered breath in. 

Then he heard something open, which sounded like a bottle but before he could process anything else, Faith’s hands returned to their exploration of his backside, but this time, they were very slick with something that smelled faintly of a scent he couldn’t exactly define. 

He continued to breath deeply as her fingers grew firmer in their attentions. He moaned at the first push of her slicked finger into his back hole. Her words soothed and aroused him both in equal measure, and she confidently directed his body to her liking and soon, he felt the intrusion of something foreign pressing against him. 

He simply couldn’t stop the deep groan of satisfaction when Faith praised him for a job well done. 

He was so turned on right now, and they hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet. 

His eyes remained closed, as he felt her body leave his and his moaned protestations had her humming in satisfaction. When Faith moved around his body again, and he sensed she was standing directly in front of him, her husky words of “ _Open your eyes and let me see you”_ made him shudder again with anticipation. 

Whatever he’d imagined in this moment, and he had imagined it often since he saw Faith in the club dancing with Buffy, was nothing compared to the goddess standing before him. As his gazed lifted slowly, taking his time to memorize every facet of the perfection that was his Slayer—he couldn’t have helped the strangled whine that erupted from his lips as his eyes traversed smooth, silky legs that were tanned and toned...

...and encased in black sheer stockings held up by thin garters...

A black silk and lace scrap of barely there panties cupped nirvana...

But the corset had him nearly coming right there...

It was very similar to the one she’d worn at Oswald’s, except this one showed the shadowing of her nipples playing peekaboo, as her cleavage spilled from its confines. 

“ _Ffuuckk_...” he tried to stop himself from speaking, and the wicked knowing uplifted smirk on his Slayer’s face told him she knew exactly what his reaction would be, but she just held out her hand to him—which he took without hesitation—and led him over to the lounge chair by the most secluded part of his room. 

It was strange trying to walk even a few feet with the plug inside him. He grunted at the foreign sensation as it pressed down on his prostate in a very pleasurable way. 

Faith’s smirk only widened. Then she situated herself on the lounger so her head was tilted back off the bottom edge. She had moved it over, so the end was now nearest the wall, and the headrest was facing his bed. She’d placed a blanket over the leather, and had tucked it under so she wouldn’t slip off the chair. 

“Straddle me, Krasivyy.”

“Yes, Domina.”

He carefully lifted his right leg and brought it to the other side of the wide lounger, hissing in pained pleasure when the plug pulled at his sudden movement. Faith adjusted him so his knees were straddling her head and then she leaned his body forward, his hands instinctively coming out to the wall, while her legs were draped over the sides. His dick was now directly in front of her face and she hummed, taking a long, leisurely swipe down the underside of his erection. 

“Are you ready, Krasivyy?”

“ _ **Fuck yes, Domina**_.”

Her husky dark laugh had him shivering in anticipation, and then suddenly everything was filled with sensation as she took him into her mouth and began a slow torture that was borderline pleasured anguish. 

For the next hour, he found himself brought to the brink of salvation so many times he’d lost count, and every time he was almost there, he’d tell Faith, and she would stop her onslaught and make him slowly count to ten before she’d start all over again. 

At first it was just her using her very skilled mouth on his dick. 

Once she’d brought him to the edge thrice from doing just that, she added a steady stream of tugs on the nipple clamps, which brought him to the edge faster. Then as she’d suck on him and swallow him down fully, she’d push and pull on the plug...stimulating the motions of pegging and the sounds coming from his mouth were utterly foreign to his ears. 

But every time he’d come to the brink, she’d pull back and make him count again. 

When his body was literally shaking with repressed energy from being denied for so long, Faith pulled back slightly and said, “When I tap my fingers here,” there were two taps on his right thigh, “you may come. You will have ten seconds to do so and if you don’t, then we start this all over again, Krasivyy. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Domina.” His voice croaked, but his eyes were hot and heavy, and they watched Faith avidly, her mouth around his cock a thing of beauty. 

How she could do this for so long without her jaw aching was beyond him. 

She seemed to so thoroughly enjoy this, and he knew from experience that most women didn’t. 

He was such a lucky fuck to see her like this. 

She was so fucking beautiful, it made his heart clench with something totally foreign. 

His musings were cut short when she started to pull on the plug again, this time more forcefully and he groaned desperately, feeling his balls pulling back, struggling for release. 

The second he felt her fingers tap against his thigh, he lost it—exploding into her mouth...his spent shout of relief followed by a deep groan in blissful euphoria, was secondary to his entire body convulsing in exhausted rapture—which was prolonged almost painfully at mid-orgasm—when she pulled the plug completely from his backside, causing him to shout out a feral...

“ **Fuuuuuccckkkk!** ” 

He struggled to keep his eyes focused on his Slayer. He simply didn’t want to miss a single second of her swallowing him down completely—and again, she didn’t disappoint. Her throat convulsed around him for well over a minute as she held her breath effortlessly, and took down everything he had to offer. 

Her Slayer strength with her hand left holding his hips in place, was the only thing that prevented him from collapsing completely knackered into the wall. 

When she was done, she released him with a small ‘ _pop_ ’ and their gazes locked and held. 

He so wanted to speak what he was thinking and feeling, but unsure if she was ready to hear such confessions from him. 

“ _Well done, Krasivyy._ ”

“ ** _Thank you, Domina_**.” He breathed out with reverence.

Faith smiled widely before moving him slightly, crawling out from underneath him, even as she guided him with her left hand so he was now laying prone with his back on the chaise. His gaze followed her luscious backside, watching her sashay into the bathroom, with the toy in her hand and then he heard the water in the shower running. 

When she came back into the room a few moments later, she was completely naked. 

Running her hand down the side of his face, she leant down and kissed him sweetly, her fingers deftly removing the nipple clamps, causing him to groan into her mouth. She had brushed her teeth, but he could still taste the remnants of himself on her tongue. 

Once the clamps were gone and the blood rushed feeling back, Faith massaged his chest with her hand and after a moment pulled back. It was only then, he realized the cock ring had also been removed. 

His look of utter confusion as he stared down at his now softening erection, caused Faith’s voice to bubble up in sweet laughter. 

“Did you?” 

“Yes.”

Shaking his head, he hadn’t even noticed that she’d removed it, much less how she’d done so. 

He’d been that out of it?

“Fuck.” He whispered in complete awe, which led to another husky giggle.

“Come on, _stud_. Time to get cleaned up. You have a big day tomorrow.”

“What about you, Gorgeous?”

She placed a swift finger over his lips and hushed him. 

“Tonight was about _you_. Don’t worry, if tomorrow goes as planned you can ravish me afterwards, deal?”

She pulled him up and steadied him, wrapping a secure arm around his waist then leading him into the bathroom, where the steam of the shower beckoned in welcome. 

He kissed her temple lovingly and replied with affection, “Deal.”

Large brown eyes glistened up at him with all due seriousness, praising, “You did _so_ well, Krasivyy.”

He smirked, before quipping honestly, “I think, I could get used to this whole submission thing.”

The gale of laughter that followed, had him grinning happily as he suddenly realized that he was completely and utterly enamoured with his Faith.


	20. Taking One for the Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel shows up unexpectedly at Bruce’s Penthouse the morning before his meeting with Lau.

Bruce slept like the dead. He didn’t think he’d _ever_ slept as soundly as he had the night before. When he awoke, the sun was just coming up over the horizon casting a warm glow into his room. He groaned softly at the protest of his aching muscles, but that concern was secondary to the warm, heavenly body spooned perfectly in front of him. 

Nuzzling into Faith’s hair, he hummed in satisfaction at the feeling of complete contentment. Last night had been an eye opener for him in so many ways. He’d never given his complete trust...his _submission_...to another living soul before. 

_Had never even wanted to._

Part of his initial hesitance with Faith, had been due to his own reluctance in admitting that there was a side of his personality that didn’t crave control. Oh, he liked control well enough, but he’d always known deep down that he desperately wanted someone he could simply allow to take over and make him feel safe. 

There was no way to have that mentality in business...

...and as Batman, it’d get him _killed_. 

So that left the bedroom, and that hadn’t been an option... _period_. 

Because he’d been waiting like a lost puppy for Rachel to come to her senses and decide to come back to him. 

Which she’d never had. 

The stark truth had been, that within these past almost three years since he’d returned to Gotham—he’d had sex a mere handful of times—all one night stands with different random women. 

Mostly models, one actress—but that was neither here nor there. 

The expectation they’d had that he was just as powerful in bed, as he was in everything else was an image he was all too happy to cultivate. It served a certain narrative, that he’d needed to maintain the illusion of Bruce Wayne...

... _Playboy billionaire._

That wasn’t an image he needed to project with Faith. 

And it was so _freeing_ , he simply didn’t know how to articulate it to himself just yet. 

Carefully disengaging, he rolled over soundlessly and checked the time. It was just after seven. He made his way out of his bed, looking back to his still sleeping Slayer, and headed into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he was dressed casually downstairs with Baba and Yaga trailing happily behind him. Alfred smirked at him, handing him a mug of black coffee. 

“Did you sleep well, Master Wayne.”

Bruce took a measured sip and then nodded. “Best sleep of my life, I think.”

The surprise on Alfred’s face was genuine, but he didn’t reply—he just grabbed the dogs leashes, refuse bags and said succinctly, “Faith is still sleeping. I’m going to take these two down to the indoor dog atrium so they can do their business. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Of course. Would you like anything in particular for Breakfast this morning?”

“No Alfred, I’m fine with whatever. I’m not sure what Faith prefers, though.”

“Well, I did make some fresh juice this morning.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it.” He replied, pushing the elevator button, attaching the leashes and heading downstairs. 

He was gone for about twenty minutes, and when he returned Alfred had food out for the two Rottweilers.

“That’s their food?”

“Yes, Master Wayne. Miss Violet brought it with her. They get raw meat daily, with bits of fresh raw pureed pumpkin.”

Bruce watched in amusement as Alfred put the dog dishes down and both Baba and Yaga went immediately over and started eating hungrily. 

“So these are the Chechen’s dogs?”

“Faith’s dogs now, but yes. They seem rather well trained and friendly, all things considered. Although, I don’t doubt they’d probably attack anyone they’d perceived as a genuine threat.”

“I did hear a bit of the conversation Miss Faith had with her fellow Slayers last night. This must be completely overwhelming for her to discover such a monumental truth about her family?”

“I know, Alfred—and she’s handled it all so well. I’m not sure I would’ve, in similar circumstances.”

“Eric called while you were still asleep, Sir.” Alfred segued, “Apparently he received a rather important phone call earlier this morning.”

“From whom?”

“Buckingham Palace.”

His eyes widened in shock, but he was omitted from replying when the Penthouse phone rang, signaling someone was downstairs at security, requesting access. 

Alfred answered it dutifully, a small frown settling over his features before he covered the receiver with his hand and informed softly, “Miss Rachel is downstairs, Master Wayne. She is requesting permission to come up.”

He sighed in reluctance but nodded sharply, before finishing his coffee and then reaching for that day’s Gotham Times. 

He didn’t get to look at the front page however, as the elevator door dinged and in walked Rachel, dressed for work and clearly agitated. 

“Bruce. Thank you for seeing me.”

“What do you need, Rachel? This couldn’t have waited?”

“No.” Her eyes flitted to the paper, and he could see her expression pinching before her blue eyes settled back on him. “I wanted to talk to you about your meeting this afternoon with Lau.”

What about it?” He demanded. “I’ve already gone over this with Gordon and Dent last Friday. I was fairly certain we’d covered it all.”

“That was before Gambol was murdered.”

“Okay?”

Rachel went to clarify, when she heard clicking sounds behind her. When she glanced over her shoulder, she tensed in shock noticing the two very large Rottweilers approaching from behind. 

She then asked shakily, “When did you get dogs?”

“They’re Faith’s. Meet Baba and Yaga.”

Her head whipped sharply towards Bruce, sputtering inelegantly. “The Chechen’s dogs?”

He nodded with a smirk. 

“So, she wasn’t lying when she said she’d helped you take out both he and Crane?”

“No.”

He whistled softly and both dogs moved over next to him, and he petted them. When he glanced back up at Rachel, her expression was clearly not pleased. 

“So what did you need to tell me?” He asked, now folding his arms over his chest as he leant back to consider the woman across from him. The woman he’d loved since they were children. The first woman he’d ever been with intimately. The woman who’d helped the DA’s office get Chill his deal and then get killed. The woman who’d slapped him and told him what a _disappointment_ he’d been to his dead Father’s memory. The woman who’d tried to do right by Gotham in her own way, even if it was misguided and naive. 

The woman who’d walked away from him, because she couldn’t deal with his ‘ _real'_ face. 

_His darkness._

“I’d like an answer to that as well.” A husky voice sounded from above, causing all eyes to lift as the brunette Slayer and the Grand Duchess Nickolaevna sauntered down the stairs like she owned the place. 

Bruce just shook his head indulgently. 

Baba and Yaga rushed over to their owner, barking happily and nubs wagging as she showered them with affection. 

“Did you take them out already?”

“A little while ago, and Alfred just fed them.”

“You guys are the best.” Faith grinned, moving over sinuously towards Bruce, surprised when he wrapped a possessive arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. The dogs resettled themselves at her feet—eyeing their visitor closely. 

Alfred seemed bemused, but politely asked Miss Rachel if she had eaten and wanted to stay for breakfast. 

“No thank you, Alfred,” She replied primly, “I’ll pick up something on the way into the office, but thank you for the offer.”

“Of course, Miss Rachel.”

Faith watched the other woman closely—and could feel her anger, hurt and disappointment wafting off of her like a cloying specter. It was clear that she’d expected Bruce to pine for her indefinitely, while he did his Batman thing and then maybe when he was done, she’d grow some balls and decide to take him back. 

She was also pretty certain that Rachel Dawes had never expected Bruce Wayne to find someone else, and actually be happy without her. 

_What a bitch!_

“Harvey told me that Gordon is planning to have Lau taken into custody at your office?”

“That was the plan. Batman told Harvey and Gordon that Bruce Wayne was meeting with Lau to discuss a joint business venture and recommended that they get a warrant and have it served during that meeting.”

“And you think that’s a good idea?”

Bruce shrugged, but Faith tilted her head at the woman questioningly. 

“You _don’t_?” She asked and Rachel bristled.

“No. I don’t. Bruce has tried very hard to keep his playboy persona and his Batman persona separate.” 

Bruce stiffened while she remained passive, as she offered evenly, “Seems to have worked for him up to now.”

“Yes,” Rachel bit out, “which is why it’s not a good idea for anyone to potentially put two and two together.”

“I can put on a decent enough acting job, Rachel.”

“It’s too risky.” Rachel pleaded. “There was a calling card left with Gambol’s body, which was dumped about a half mile from where his bar went up in flames.”

“The Joker?” He guessed, feeling Faith’s posture freeze up as Rachel nodded, oblivious to Faith’s discomfort. 

“All the more reason to get to Lau.” He admitted. 

“I think this is a bad idea, Bruce.” Rachel protested again. “The Joker may decide to come after you too.”

“That’s a stretch.” He bit back. 

“Actually, it’s not.” Faith interrupted, with a quick look over her shoulder. 

“Why do you say that, Miss Lehane?” Rachel demanded caustically. 

“I’m not sure those reasons are any of your business, Miss Dawes.” She replied waspishly. “But if you’re so worried about Bruce, perhaps we could use your little visit here today to his advantage?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m assuming there’s still the vulture brigade outside hovering around?”

“Yes.”

“And you thought it was a good idea, the day of this meeting that you’re so worried about, to show up unannounced here at Bruce’s Penthouse where any number of reporters likely not only saw you enter, but will probably report on it?”

“Bruce and I have been best friends for _years_!” Rachel defended hotly. 

“That may be true, but I’m not sure it’s a good look for an assistant DA, to be coming over here at the crack of dawn either.”

Rachel huffed and Bruce placed his chin on Faith’s shoulder as he considered her words, which were actually pretty spot on. 

“She’s _right_ , Rachel. This may present some unforeseen problems.”

Rachel didn’t reply, but Faith’s face morphed into a predatory smirk before she postulated in challenge, “There might be a way to use this to everyone’s advantage?”

“How?” Bruce asked, intrigued. 

“Well, based on what occurred last Saturday, I would imagine the gossips of Gotham might’ve had some things to say about how the evening ended. So we use that as our play. Rachel came here at the wishes of her boss and lover, Dent—to make sure Bruce’s meeting for today is still a go. They show, Lau is taken into custody and Bruce goes to your office and confronts his best friend for using him, by showing up the very same day and pumping him for info.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed hatefully, while Bruce frowned in thought. She however, didn’t seem at all perturbed, deciding to sit back and watch which way the wind blew. 

“I’ll bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Rachel snarled, while she just shrugged indifferently. 

“Maybe you should’ve thought about your play before you showed up here without an invite.” She rebutted easily. “You’ve overplayed your hand. I get it. But it doesn’t change the facts. You’ve caused more harm by being here and now we have to fix it so Bruce can save face. Best friends are willing to take one for the team, right? Here’s your chance to prove you’ve got what it takes.”

“Faith..” Bruce’s voice was filled with several emotions but the primary one was amusement, which frankly surprised her. 

Rachel heard it too, and scoffed. 

“You just think because you’re now some Royal, that you know what Bruce needs.”

“I seemed to last night— _ **right Krasivyy?**_ ”

Bruce choked out a stunted cough, and actually _blushed,_ which caused Rachel’s eyes to widen in horror. 

“ _I don’t believe this!_ ” She growled out. 

Apparently, Baba and Yaga didn’t appreciate Rachel’s tone of voice, as they both started growling menacingly in warning.

Rachel paled, but Faith just said in her dominant tone, “ _Nyet! Ostavat'sya!_ ”

Bruce instinctively shifted in his seat, causing her to smirk at him over her shoulder, while Rachel’s mouth literally dropped open in pained comprehension. 

Then her phone rang. 

She fished it out of her jeans pocket and her face cracked into an amused grin. She held up the screen so Bruce could see the caller ID, and his nostrils flared as his hands gripped onto her hips possessively. 

“You’re _not_ answering that!”

“Oh?”

“No.”

“Maybe you two should finish your little confab,” she mocked, “seems I have an important call to answer.”

And before Bruce could blink, she was out of his lap and pressing down the green button on her phone, walking backwards and answering with a devilish, “John! How lovely to hear from you.”

“ _Faith_...” Bruce warned. 

But all she did was wink and whistle for her dogs, who obediently followed their mistress out of the room—leaving a stunned Rachel and a livid Bruce Wayne staring after her. 

And Alfred chuckling to himself, as he left the room to start on breakfast. 

An uncomfortable silence pervaded over the room, and Bruce figured he was in no mood to have this—whatever it was...

Rachel though, had other ideas. 

“ _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now?!_ ” Her voice was filled with accusation, but there was an undertone of genuine hurt there too. 

Which he didn’t miss. 

“We’re not doing this, Rachel.” He stood up and shook his head in warning. 

“Did you see today’s paper?”

He glanced over in confusion, then reached for the paper—opening it and his eyes going wide at that days headline. 

There was a photo of he and Faith, walking on the tarmac, hand in hand with the caption...

**Billionaire Gotham Prince finds love with Royal Romanov Princess**

He swallowed heavily, quickly perusing the article. There was of course—speculation on their relationship, which he knew there would be. Speculation on Faith’s presumed wealth, which the papers were estimating somewhere in the 50-100 billion range. When he got to the bottom of the article, his face broke out into an amused smirk when as predicted—the inference of him actually being with Faith for her wealth was not so discreetly hinted at. 

He threw back his head in rich laughter. 

Which caught Rachel completely by surprise as she hadn’t seen Bruce do that in...well...

...forever...

“She’s not a Princess,” Bruce snickered as Rachel continued to gape at him, “she’s the Grand Duchess Nickolaevna. They could at least do their research.”

“You’re not upset?” Rachel asked, dumbfounded. 

“Why? Because they accused _me_ of being a _gold digger?”_ He chuckled again, and even Rachel’s lips quirked up in wry amusement before they were both laughing outrageously at the idea. 

Wiping her eyes, Rachel sighed. “That is ludicrous.”

“Not what you implied yesterday on the message you left for me.”

Shaking her head, Rachel’s expression fell in contrition. “I am sorry about that, Bruce. It wasn’t well done of me at all, was it?”

“No, it really wasn’t. Pissed me off, quite frankly.”

Rachel cocked her head and gave him an inscrutable look which he couldn’t define before she said softly, “She’s really changed you, hasn’t she?”

“Huh?”

“Bruce, you’re _laughing_! Sharing how you feel? When is the last time you’ve actually admitted to being upset by something? Feeling it yes...but admitting it?”

He blanched as his head whipped back at the insinuation. 

When was the last time he’d truly laughed? 

About anything?

Or talked about his emotions?

Shaking his head in abject disgust, all he could get out was, “I’m pretty messed up, aren’t I?”

Rachel nodded. “You’ve been that way since your parents death, but it got so bad in High School I didn’t recognize you anymore.”

“Is that why you ended it before you left for NYU?”

“Yes. I couldn’t get through to you. You’d never talk to me about your feelings, Bruce. You just expected me to be a mind reader and I loved you desperately so I tried to hang in there. I’d thought if we went our separate ways, that it might force you to reflect a bit. Maybe miss me and be more open, but the exact opposite happened. When I saw you that day at Chill’s hearing, you looked so utterly defeated. There was no spark left in your eyes and no lightness in your demeanor. I’m sorry I slapped you, but I was just so desperate to shock you out of your apathy for life that I was at my wits end! I never expected you to disappear for seven years, Bruce! And then you come home, and I find out you’ve decided to become a vigilante. You went from zero to eighty and there was no in between and no place where I fit into your new life.”

He went to speak, but a Rachel held up her hand to stop him—so he did. 

“ _No! I get to finish!_ You didn’t consult me on your decision to become the Batman, when you made it. You didn’t even give me a vote! You’d assumed, in the way you always have, that you were somehow protecting me. Who were you really protecting me from, Bruce?”

His mouth pinched, and his heart was leaping into his throat with regret as he said flatly, “ _Me_.”

“Yes, _you_! You thought you were being a self-sacrificing noble...friend? I honestly don’t know what you were thinking, and I’ve spent way too much time and heartache trying to figure it out. But in the end, I’d realized that day in the Narrows, that you didn’t trust me enough to see behind your mask. That’s why I walked away that day at your family home. Not because I’d wanted to, but because after everything we were to each other? You still didn’t trust me enough to let me in, Bruce.”

“And you didn’t trust me either, Rachel!” He bit back defensively. “You didn’t even give me a chance to explain that day where I’d been for seven years, or how it might’ve changed me irrevocably. I was finally ready to open up but you’ve always expected deep down, for me to be the exact same Bruce that you fell in love with when we were kids. Don’t lie? Weren’t those your exact words to me? Maybe he’s still out there somewhere? Maybe when this is all done, I’ll see him again?”

Rachel paled, a single tear falling down her cheek in sad defeat. 

“You’re right, I _did_ say those words.”

“And that’s why we can’t go back, Rachel.” He stated unequivocally. “ _Too much has happened._ Too much has changed, and we want different things now.”

“What do you want?” She asked sincerely. 

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“To be able to give my complete trust to someone and be trusted in return without judgement.”

Rachel nodded in understanding. “And Faith gives that to you.”

“She does.” He replied immediately, and then his eyes widened in shock—because he hadn’t even needed to second guess it when he’d said it. 

Rachel smiled wryly and then nodded with finality. “You’ve just figured it out, haven’t you?”

He tilted his head down in a half nod, not wanting to speak the actual words of what he was feeling to anyone but the woman who deserved to hear it from him. 

All he said was, “You should go.”

“I should.” She sighed and then offered, “Faith was right and I’m your friend first and I always will be, Bruce. If you need me to play the part today and take one for the team, I’m willing. I may not like it, but what’s done is done.”

He nodded in gratitude, before showing her out. 

When the elevator door closed, he turned around and immediately noticed Faith standing there with a hopeful expression on her face. He didn’t waste a moment as he strode over and picked her up into his embrace, kissing her breathless. 

When the kiss finally ended, he rested his forehead against hers and said sincerely, “Thank you.”

“For what?” She whispered, genuinely confused. 

“For being _you_.”

Her smile was tentative, but the raw emotion in her expressive brown eyes gave her away in that moment. 

“Then I should thank you for being you.”

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

“That we are, Krasivyy.”

He chuckled. “I should spank you for embarrassing me like that.”

“Not happening. Besides, what’s there to be embarrassed about? What we do in the privacy of the bedroom is no one’s business but our own.”

“True enough.” He placed another swift kiss on her lips, then set her down. As they headed into the kitchen hand in hand, the smells of breakfast beckoned and Bruce grabbed the paper showing Faith the front page. 

Her snort of disgust, was par for the course. 

“I heard you laughing earlier, and that’s what got my attention. What was that all about?” She asked. 

“The article’s writer in a roundabout way? Accused me of being with you for your money.”

She snickered, and then threw her head back and laughed. 

“Bruce Wayne...gold digger.”

“Don’t forget boy toy.”

“Nice.”

His eyes narrowed. “What did John want?”

Her lips lifted into an evil little grin. “He wanted to let me know that if I ever got tired of the brooding playboy, he was available.”

He gripped her waist and nipped at her neck as they entered into the kitchen, where Alfred was watching them fondly. 

“And what did you tell him, Miss Faith?” Alfred asked, as he plated the omelettes he’d made for them both.

“I told him that I didn’t see that happening.”

“Good answer, Gorgeous.” 

He pulled out her chair, and she took it with a playful wink, quipping back sassily, “That’s what I thought too, handsome.”


	21. Lau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce meets with Lau at Wayne Enterprises.

Bruce made his way to Wayne Enterprises, and Faith decided she would head back to her apartment before the meeting with Lau. Bruce wasn’t happy about the decision, but he called his private security team and had them sneak Faith and her dogs out through the back loading dock. He left through the main garage, making a show of taking his Lamborghini and as expected, the press were still out trying to capture a new photo for tomorrow’s byline. 

When he finally got to Wayne Tower, he parked his car and headed for the executive floor. Lucius, was waiting for him when he got out of the elevator. 

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Wayne. I suppose you’ve seen the paper this morning?”

“It was rather hard to miss, Mr. Fox.” 

“Eric wanted me to give these to you.” Lucius handed him a large stack of correspondence. “I’m sure Alfred told you?”

“About the contact from London?”

“Yes. The call came from the Queen’s personal secretary. As you know, her husband is a Romanov descendant through his Mother?”

“Grandmother, I believe?” He clarified. 

“So that would make him?”

“A cousin, two or three times removed?”

Lucius chuckled. “Everyone here has been atwitter with the news.”

“I can just imagine. I especially appreciated the Times inferring that I was...”

“Ah, yes.” Lucius cleared his throat. “I don’t imagine that’s _ever_ happened before?”

“No.”

“Well, I suppose there is a first time for everything.”

He gave his CEO a disgruntled look. “Why do I think you’re enjoying yourself at my expense, Mr. Fox? Last time I checked, I still sign your paychecks, right?”

“That you do, Mr. Wayne.”

Lucius opened the door to the boardroom, where Lau and his contingent were waiting. 

“Gentlemen,” Lucius gestured to his employer, “Bruce Wayne.”

He moved over with a warm smile. “Sorry to be a bit behind schedule, but things have been harried as of late.”

Lau chuckled, and his associates seemed more amused than not. 

“I’d imagine it would be.” The man in question offered with a firm shake of the hand. “I must admit, I was a bit stunned when I read the International papers yesterday. I would imagine the young lady in question has been dealing with a veritable change of circumstance.”

“She has, but she’s handling it with the upmost grace. Well except for the press, as she finds that part distasteful.”

He gestured for them to all take their seats, which they did and Lucius inquired if anyone would care for some tea before they began. 

“Thank you, Mr. Fox—that would be most welcome.”

Lucius gestured to his assistant, who left to get the proper offerings for their guests. 

While they were waiting, Lau seemed more eager to discuss Faith than business. 

“I was surprised that the Russian Government lent their support to the discovery.”

“I was too. Faith had a lovely conversation with the Russian Premier once her heritage was verified, and he was most gracious. He even invited her to return to her homeland for a visit.”

“Extraordinary!” Lau nodded pleased, and the other gentlemen seemed equally impressed. “That will be an event to be sure.”

“I would imagine. Her Great-Grandmother has a portrait hanging in the Hermitage. I think Faith would like to see it in person.”

“And to think, she was completely unaware of her birthright.”

“That’s an _understatement_.” The husky voice of his paramour caused Bruce’s smile to form, as he stood up immediately. The other men within the room did as well, their eyes widening in awe as Faith walked in. She was wearing a stunning Roberto Cavalli white pantsuit, that he’d picked out for her before they’d left Zurich. Her hair was long, flowing and her heels were another pair of four inch stilettos. 

“Hello, Lucius.”

“Your Grace, this is a pleasant surprise.”

“It is.” Bruce admitted with a quirked eyebrow. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know and I’m sorry—but apparently, Eric wanted to meet today. He received a call earlier that he felt was so important that I had to respond right away, and I couldn’t just drop by without saying _hello_.”

“Ah yes,” he chuckled, “Mr. Fox and I were just discussing that.”

“I’ll bet you were, and you didn’t think to tell me before I left this morning, either.”

He shrugged, pulling Faith firmly into his side and took her arm within his. 

“Sorry?”

“Forgiven.” She then beamed at the Chinese contingent, and they all seemed a bit starstruck. “I’m sorry if I’m being rude, and I didn’t mean to crash your party.”

“Nonsense.” Lau replied with a formal bow, and the other men followed suit. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace.”

“Thank you. You must be, Mr. Lau?”

“I am.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, but I really just came by to say hello, as I have to go and call the Queen. I’ll see you later?” The last part was directed at Bruce.

“Count on it.” He winked, and then watched Faith fondly as she left the conference room. 

Once she was gone, he turned back to Lau and he nearly choked out a laugh as the man seemed genuinely blinded by Faith’s charm. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne? Did she say the Queen? As in the Queen of Great Britain?”

“Yes. The Queen’s husband and Faith are distant cousins.”

Lau nodded, but still seemed a bit overwhelmed. 

Tea was brought in and the meeting finally commenced. It was about an hour later as they were just finishing up, when Gordon barged in with several police officers in tow followed by Lucius secretary, who was apologizing profusely. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Fox, but Lt. Gordon barged in here and claims he has a warrant.”

“ _Excuse me_?” Bruce stood up enraged. “What is the meaning of this, Gordon?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne. I have a warrant for Mr. Lau.”

“On what grounds?” 

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

He glanced over at Lau, who was speaking in rapid Chinese with his people. He then turned and said apologetically, “I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne. I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“I would certainly hope so.” Turning to Gordon, he demanded, “How did you even know about this meeting, Lieutenant? I’m fairly certain this meeting was confidential.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne—but I’m afraid I can’t give you that information.”

Faith at that exact moment came around the corner, her eyes widening in feigned shock. 

“Bruce? Did something happen?”

All eyes turned to her, and Gordon seemed stunned. 

“Faith,” he sighed, moving over with purpose, “it’s alright. They’re here for Mr. Lau. I don’t know what the issue is but somehow, they found out we were meeting here today.”

Faith’s eyes narrowed in thought before she leant up and whispered something into his ear. He pulled back and his stony expression was fairly convincing.

“I think you might be right about that.” He whispered out, just loud enough for everyone to hear. He then turned to Lau and said with all fake sincerity, “I will get to the bottom of this.” 

“Of course, Mr. Wayne.” Lau replied easily enough, and seemed to be fairly unperturbed. “If you would be so kind as to take care of my people. Hopefully I can resolve this issue quickly.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He replied politely. 

Everyone watched Lau being taken away, and Bruce directed Lucius to see to their guests before he took Faith by the arm and escorted her into his private office. 

When the door closed, he just smirked at her. 

“You’re a good actress.”

“Thank you, you’re not so bad of an actor yourself. You heading down to the DA’s office now?”

He sighed. “I probably should make an appearance.”

“You do know if he agrees to help, they’ll give him immunity and let him go back to Hong Kong—no questions asked.”

“I do know that, Gorgeous... _why_?”

“Just stating facts.”

“You don’t seem too happy with that idea.”

Waving her hand obliquely, she just replied, “When I first decided to come to Gotham, I’d thought it would be simply for the Slaying, but now? Everything is so complicated.”

He cupped her cheek, then tilted her chin up so their eyes could meet. “Is that a bad thing?” He whispered, and she shook her head. 

“No, Krasivyy—it’s not. It’s just unexpected. I’m still processing it all and we haven’t even found the Joker yet.”

“I know.” He leant down and placed a chaste kiss on Faith’s perfect lips. “You look _exquisite_ today, by the way—not that you don’t always.”

“This old thing?” She quipped, “Apparently I have this guy, who thinks it’s his job to prove he can spend his money on me.”

“Really?” He grinned. “He sounds like a thoughtful chap.”

“ _Chap_? Seriously? You’re going all Giles on me now?”

He chuckled and shook his head, before he asked curiously, “How was your conversation with the Queen?”

“Fine. She seems like a pretty interesting woman and was friendly enough. Her husband is a bit of a stiff, but they’re older so who knows. I think they were shocked, but you’d never know it by talking to them.”

“Well, I think their Heir’s eldest son is a couple years younger than you? Maybe they’re hoping to fix you both up and keep all those Royal bloodlines within the family.”

She shivered in disgust. “Ewwww....that’s just _mean_.” 

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“ _You think?_ ”

He shrugged, but he had to admit it was probably likely. Faith might be American-born and raised, but she was the only direct descendent of probably the wealthiest of all the former Royal families. The fact that she had the cursory title and the wealth, but not the inherent obligations that came with the title... 

It would likely be highly appealing to those within Royal circles. 

“What do you think?” He prevaricated, watching with amusement as she narrowed her gaze at him before her lips quirked up into a challenging smirk. 

“Do you think I should?” Her voice was light (as she grazed her fingers along his shoulders), saccharine and totally _not her._..

...and he just huffed. 

“I think, Gorgeous—that I have absolutely _no intentions_ of letting you entertain anyone but me. So? I’m afraid the likelihood of you becoming the future Queen of Great Britain will just have to remain a humorous conversation piece or an improbable novelty.”

“And here I was already thinking about wearing all those cool, sparkly Crown Jewels... _shame_.”

“I didn’t think you were a jewelry kind of girl?”

Faith’s expression morphed into her dominant one from the night before as her finger gently traced down his chest and then to the zipper on his slacks before cupping him _possessively_ , as she replied huskily, “I _prefer_ the Wayne Family Jewels, for the record.”

His nostrils flared in want, as he leant down and kissed her roughly, feeling his entire body come alive at her sensuous touch. 

Then someone knocked on his door, causing him to pull back with an unhappy groan. 

“Bruce Wayne, cock-blocked in his own office...such a pity.”

Taking several deep breaths to calm down his racing libido, he gave his little vixen a warning look. 

“I have to go, but I _will_ be seeing you later. Would you like me to pick you up?”

“Don’t you think I should stay at my place for a while? At least until the press dies down?”

Shaking his head, he actually _snarled_ when the knock came again. 

“Come _in_ , Mr. Fox.”

The man in question poked his head in, apologizing for the interruption. 

“It’s fine, Lucius—I was just heading out.” Faith replied, while Bruce just folded his arms over his chest in protest. “Don’t _look_ at me like that, Wayne. You’ll get wrinkles and you’re _far too pretty_ to be worrying so much.”

Bruce’s CEO cracked a wide grin, but he just snorted before stating firmly, “I’ll be by to pick you up by eight.”

“Don’t you have to patrol tonight?” 

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“ _What if I wanted to patrol tonight?”_

The hard glare Bruce gave her let her know that he was not on board with that idea at all.

“We still haven’t figured out how you’re going to go about doing that and not be recognizable, Faith. Besides, last time I checked? There are nine other Slayers out there patrolling Gotham every night.”

“And they get to have all the fun!” She growled petulantly, causing Bruce to smirk at how cute she was. 

“How about we discuss some possible options tonight?”

“ _Really?”_

“Of course.” He glanced over at Lucius, who sighed as he took the unspoken hint as a direct order. 

“I’ll see what I can work up.” Lucius said at last, and Faith grinned widely at him. 

“You’re the _best_ , Lucius!”

“What about _me_?” He mocked, “It was my idea.”

“Are you actually designing the thing?”

“Well, I did design my first suit.” He groused, “So it’s not like I’m incapable of it.”

“But you won’t be tinkering with this one, right?”

He didn’t reply, and Faith snickered at the sulky billionaire in her arms. 

“Sorry, handsome—but to the creator goes the spoils. If Lucius here builds it, then he get the kudos and you’ll just have to settle for getting your rocks off some other way.”

She almost lost it when Bruce’s expression went from DEFCON 3 to DEFCON 1 in an instant—but deciding it was probably wise to change the subject for now, she suggested, “But maybe leave the Lambo here and take something, I don’t know? _Less Bruce Wayne_ , when you come pick me up later?”

“Fine.” He capitulated, then turned to Lucius and asked firmly, “What kind of cars do we have in the company pool?”

Lucius lifted an amused eyebrow, but listed off the makes and models—causing Bruce to scrunch up his nose in disgust, while Faith broke down in rich peals of laughter. 

“Not funny, Gorgeous.”

“Oh, but it is, Handsome. Bruce Wayne driving a Ford Focus... _no_! Please give him the keys to the Chevy Cruz, Lucius! I drove one once and it was _soooo a bunch of crap!”_

Lucius snickered, while he just stared between the two of them incredulously, as they were clearly having a go at his expense. 

“This is not funny.” He pouted. 

“Sure it’s not.” Faith deadpanned, before her face turned serious. “Do you have any bulletproofed armored vehicles in your fleet?”

“No, why?”

She shrugged. “You really should have some, Bruce. If someone like the Joker were to come after you, or what if you were traveling with someone like Lau? He’s a target, but if you hadn’t known that ahead of time you could’ve been a sitting duck?”

He glanced over at Lucius, who appeared thoughtful. 

“It’s actually not a bad suggestion, Mr. Wayne. Especially now.”

The rationale for the ‘ _now_ ’ part of that comment, was clear to all of them and he nodded. 

“Have purchasing look into it. Maybe a few Mercedes sedans with darkened windows and a few SUV’s too.”

“I’ll do that, Sir.” 

“Well, I’m off!” Faith winked, “Play well with others!”

Bruce cracked a half-grin as he watched her saunter out of his office, his eyes glued to her swaying ass so he didn’t notice Lucius watching him with a pleased little look on his face. 

“So, Mr. Wayne?”

“Hmmm?” Bruce’s expression went from glazed to clear in a blink of an eye. “Oh, _right_.” He nodded, “DA’s office.”

He made sure he had his keys to his Lamborghini still in his suit pocket and then headed out the door, but before he got outside fully, Lucius called out his name. 

He turned around and caught another set of keys Lucius had thrown his way. 

“My car is down in the garage. You can use it, but I expect you to return it with a full tank of gas.”

He glanced down at the keychain, his lips lifting slightly as he hummed thoughtfully. 

“Windows tinted?”

“Yes.”

“I would’ve never pegged you for a Maserati lover, Lucius.”

The man in question just lifted his shoulders and said, “I have more than one car, Mr. Wayne.”

“I would certainly hope so,” he quipped, “I’ve seen your paychecks you know. I’d hate to think you were relegated to only one modest vehicle.”

“Or have to use the ones in the company pool?”

“You were _kidding_ , right? Or is that what we actually have?”

“Oh, I wasn’t joking, Sir.”

“How many cars are there?”

“Twenty, at present.”

“And old are they?”

“We rotate them out every two years on lease. This grouping is set to be reset in a few months.”

“And you return the others to the dealerships?”

“That’s the idea.”

He was thoughtful for a moment and then said simply, “Purchase the cars, and then donate them. Better tax breaks that way, and we can do some good. Women’s shelters, job programs that sort of thing.” Bruce was thoughtful for a moment before he inquired, “Doesn’t Wayne Enterprises donate to St. Swithin’s here in Gotham?”

“We do.”

“Any chance I could meet with the director there at some point?”

“Is there a reason behind this?”

“Yes, and one I should’ve mentioned before now. The Joker? His given name is Jack Napier. When Faith’s Mother and Father died, she was sent to St. Swithin’s in Boston. She was there at the same time as a one Jack Napier, who she identified last night as the Joker.”

Lucius eyebrows lifted, but he made a mental note to get everything he could on Jack Napier immediately.

“I’ll get on that right away.”

“I also have Alfred looking into it too, but it can’t hurt to have two sets of eyes on this.”

“Why do I get the feeling there is more to the story, Mr. Wayne?”

“Because there usually is?” He lamented with another sigh. “And I’m not sure if it’s my story to tell, Lucius.”

“Understood, Sir. But I have to assume this must have something to do with Miss Lehane’s concerns about safety? Is she potentially a target?”

“If she hadn’t been outed as the Grand Duchess Nickolaevna, I would’ve said probably not. But now that her face is most likely on every newspaper in the country today?”

“Then there’s a good chance the Joker might target her.”

“Hence why I want to keep her close. I know she can take care of herself, but had I known about Jack Napier prior to discovering Faith’s heritage?”

“You would’ve encouraged her to postpone the discovery until he’d been dealt with.” 

“Yes.” He ran a hand down his face in irritation. “Oh, and I suppose if we’re going to stick with American brands, at least make them fun to drive—although some should be practical too.” 

The complete change of subject caused Lucius to quirk his lips at the obvious segue, replying without missing a beat...

“What did you have in mind?”

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe start with a few Lincoln Navigators and at least three Ford Mustang GT premiums. All black and silver, all tinted for privacy. See how we can customize at least two of the SUV’s bulletproof and maybe get two Mercedes C-class sedans.” He added the last as an afterthought.

Lucius had to admit, he was rather surprised by this new side of his employer—who never bothered much with the mundane day to day of the office. He had to wonder if Bruce Wayne even realized how much his new relationship with Faith Lehane was changing his normally closed off persona. 

“Would you like one sent over by this evening for a test drive?”

Bruce’s eyes perked up with interest as he threw Lucius keys back at him with a grin. 

“If they can have a new one, fully decked for privacy in the garage by seven tonight, then _yes_...”

“I’m sure we can see that done, Mr. Wayne.”

He nodded and left for the District Attorney’s Office, not looking forward to the confrontation that was about to occur. No matter how much he was okay with the fact that he and Rachel were no longer an option...he didn’t want to hurt her any more than necessary. 

Faith had been correct though, that Rachel showing up this morning was less than ideal and put him in a likely precarious situation. He couldn’t afford to have his business suffer due to his nighttime activities, but he also wanted to make sure to take the bad guys down. 

He also had to wonder just what Faith might look like in a female version of his batsuit. Molded to her physique, like some kind of avenging dark angel.

As he got into his car, he had to take a few deep breaths to distract him from those less than helpful thoughts. 

He still had a job to do and a role to play today, whether he liked it or not.  



	22. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and Faith have a confrontation after Violet nearly gets killed trying to go after the Joker.

“Bruce, what are you _doing_ here?”

“Rachel, we need to talk.”

That’s how their conversation had started, and it had quickly devolved from there so much so, that by the time Bruce had left the DA’s office slamming the door, just shy of seven that evening—everyone pretty much could guess just how the Gotham PD had found out about Lau’s whereabouts earlier that afternoon. 

Thankfully, they had aired out their complicated past that morning, so most of the sting was gone when they were faux yelling at each other in Rachel’s office. Harvey, was downtown interrogating Lau with Gordon, but Bruce felt fairly confident word would get back to the interested parties soon enough. 

He finally got back to Wayne Enterprises just shy of eight that evening, and found a very nice black Mercedes C-300 with tinted windows waiting for him, courtesy of Lucius. He moved his Lamborghini into the private garage, only he and Lucius had access to, before taking off back across town towards Gotham Terrace. 

He smirked when he’d pulled out of the garage, completely ignored by the remaining paparazzi and press, who were still parked outside waiting for his Lamborghini to emerge. 

Maybe Faith was right...maybe he needed to start driving something a bit less conspicuous around town. 

When he pulled into Faith’s apartment garage, he parked his car in the usual spot and casually made his way inside. 

“Mr. Wayne.” The security guard waved him through, but he stopped at the desk and asked pointedly, “Who runs security here?”

“I do, Sir.”

He looked down at the man’s name tag. “ _Jonah Anderson,”_ was stamped on the badge and he silently made a note to have the man thoroughly vetted. Jonah however, didn’t seem to be concerned as he said simply, “This building is owned by Wolfram and Hart, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Angel made sure all the personnel here were properly checked before Mr. Giles and Miss Summers arrived.”

Taken slightly aback, he inquired, “Do they have offices here in the building?”

“Officially, no.”

“Ah.” He nodded, before he queried succinctly, “I don’t have to explain to you how important the young ladies safety is, correct?”

“No, Mr. Wayne.” The man smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be on Mr. Angel’s bad side. After he took out the Senior Partners almost three years ago, he’s been running the show and he’s a darn good boss too.”

Bruce didn’t know what to say. He had no idea what or whom these ‘ _Senior Partners_ ’ were, but they didn’t exactly sound positive. 

“Good to know.” Was all he said, as he headed up to see his Slayer. 

When he got to Faith’s floor, the door was open and both Colleen and Shannon appeared to be on their way out. 

“Where are you two, off to?”

“Hey, Mr. Wayne.” Shannon’s cheery voice chirped. “We’re off to raid the grocery store for snacks. Apparently someone ate all of Rona’s Funyons, and Buffy’s Cheetos.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I have no idea what those are, but happy shopping.”

“You’ve _never_ had Cheetos?”

“Nope. But, I did sneak the occasional Moon Pie past Alfred when I was a kid.”

“Oh those are yummy!” Colleen nodded. 

“I was rather partial to the banana flavored ones.” He admitted with a wink. “But I won’t keep you. Is Faith inside?”

“She’s in the back room with Vi.” Shannon and Colleen glanced warily at each other, and he frowned. 

“Did something _happen_?”

“Yeah, Vi and Rona went out last night and didn’t wait for backup. They thought there was only a handful of vamps near the south dock by STAR Labs, but it turned out there was almost twenty vamps and a few demons too. They managed to take out quite a few, but Vi got stabbed pretty bad right before Buffy and Dominique showed. Buffy slaughtered the rest and Rona and Nikki managed to get Vi back here. She’s resting now, but Faith is hovering.”

“Well, at least she’s not _screaming_ anymore.” Shannon cringed. 

“Thank you for telling me.” He nodded before he made his way into the apartment, nodding to a few of the junior Slayers on his way towards Violet’s room. He knocked on the door and heard the shaky, “ _Come in_ ,” so he opened the door slowly and popped his head around the doors edge. 

Faith’s expression brightened when she saw him, and Vi was smiling too—but she looked pale and weak. 

“Hi, Mr. Wayne.”

“Hello, Violet. I ran into Colleen and Shannon on my way in and they told me what happened. I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“I’m healing. It’ll be a few days before I can go back out on patrol.”

“A week at least.” Faith groused out angrily. 

“I’m _fine_ , Mom.”

“Put a sock in it, kid.”

Bruce made his way to where Faith was sitting, and she scooted over to make room for him. 

“How’d it go?”

“Fine, I think. I suppose I’ll know more later tonight.”

“Oh?”

“I got word when I returned to Wayne Enterprises. Gordon wants to talk tonight.”

“Lau?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged and then amended. “Most likely.” His gaze then fell back to the tiny Slayer swallowed in the bed, with an IV attached to her arm. “How bad?”

“Bad enough.” Faith answered for Vi. “She was stabbed in the side. She was lucky it didn’t hit anything major. Slayer’s have advanced regenerative healing, so she wasn’t kidding when she said she’d be healed in few days.”

“It’s not your fault, Faith.”

“ _Really_? Cause I’m pretty sure I’ve told both you and Rona not to go into any situation without making sure what?”

“We’ve checked the perimeter, scouted for exits, got a head count and when possible...wait for backup.”

“Did you do any of those things?”

“Two?”

Faith scoffed, but Vi just averted her gaze. 

“You know _why_ we went in. I don’t understand why you don’t cut us some slack. If the roles were reversed, you would’ve gone in weapons blazing.”

Faith didn’t reply, but Bruce got the sense he was missing something vital. 

“What am I not seeing?” He asked. 

Faith sighed, before she bit out emotively, “They got positive confirmation on the Joker, and instead of waiting for Buffy, they went in alone.”

“Are you _serious_?”

“Completely. I was _thisclose_ to heading down to the south docks myself tonight. In fact, I just might.”

“No you won’t.” He growled out, causing Faith to sneer at his high-handedness. 

“Don’t pull that card with me, Wayne. _And don’t forget who you’re talking to.”_

“I haven’t forgotten!” He bit back. “I know exactly whom I talking to. Perhaps you might need a reminder?”

She stood up in anger. “I’m a _Slayer_ , Wayne. _This is who I am_! This other stuff?” She shook her head violently, throwing her hands over her head in fury, “That’s not as important as my calling. If you can’t see that, then maybe you need to go!”

He watched stunned, as Faith slammed out of the room. 

“Mr. Wayne?” Violet asked timidly after a few moments of silence. He turned his head towards the young girl, and saw her eyes filling with reluctant tears. He glanced around the room and found a box of tissues, bringing it over and handing it to her.

“Thanks.” She sniffed. “Don’t be too hard on Faith. I know you’re scared for her. I am too. She told me about Jack Napier tonight, and it makes me so furious that I couldn’t get him. That I was too weak...”

He immediately grabbed the young girl’s hand and shushed her. 

“Young lady, I don’t _ever_ want to hear you say such a thing about yourself again, do you understand?”

Vi nodded, and wiped her nose on a sniffle. 

“How old were you when you went to Sunnydale?”

“Fifteen.”

“And your family?”

“My parents are divorced. Neither one particularly wanted me, so when I disappeared, well?”

“Are you _kidding_ me?!”

“Nope. Rona too. We’re essentially orphans, like Faith. I think that’s why she feels so protective of us. The rest of the girls still have family out there somewhere. Brothers, sisters, grandparents and a few even still have their parents. Mr. Giles after the fall of Sunnydale, made it a point to contact all the families, especially the ones who didn’t survive. My parents disowned me when they found out. So this is my family now.”

“And Faith is like your big sister?”

“She’s a mother hen, but don’t tell her I said that. She tries to act like she doesn’t care, but she does. Probably more than anyone, Buffy included. She’s just afraid to show how she feels. She’s afraid people will use it against her or try to make her be something she’s not.”

“I sensed that.”

“She’s really scared right now.” Vi whispered lowly.

“About?”

The young Slayer didn’t answer right away, but when she did, he could tell that she genuinely cared for Faith a lot. 

“The _only thing_ Faith has ever wanted was someone to accept her for who she is. To have the strength to stand with her and not judge her for her mistakes. She has darkness within her, more than any of us. I sense that same darkness in you. I think your darkness calls to her, and vice versa. That’s why she’s scared. Faith would never be scared of a demon, or vampire. She lives to fight. Buffy is our leader, but Faith is stronger in so many ways. In the fight in Sunnydale, we all were pretty banged up afterwards. Even Buffy had been run through with a sword.”

“And Faith?”

“Barely a scratch. She’d killed at least twenty Turok-Han before the cavern collapsed and she managed to get us all out safely while Buffy stayed behind. Her first priority was us. She even drove the bus out of the city like the devil was at its heels. Buffy’s job was making sure the world was saved. I think that’s why they butt heads so much.”

“Because Buffy will sacrifice anything for the calling...”

“Even her life...” Vi clarified. 

“And Faith?”

“She’d sacrifice herself for _us_.”

He nodded in understanding, squeezing Violet’s hand in reassurance. 

“I’m glad you’re alright, Violet. Get some rest, okay?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Wayne.”

“You can call me Bruce, you know?”

“Nah. You’re too intimidating to be on a first name basis with.”

His body shook with repressed laughter, as both he and Violet shared a lighthearted moment. 

“Faith is lucky to have you.” 

“I’m pretty lucky to have her, too. Even if she denies being a hovering banshee most days.”

He stood up and then placed a platonic kiss on Violet’s head. “Thank you for talking to me.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Wayne.” He went to leave, but the young Slayer’s timid voice stopped him momentarily. “Are you in this for the long haul?”

Turning around, he nodded unequivocally and Violet smiled, as she returned the gesture and then closed her eyes. He watched her for a few more moments as her breathing evened out, and once he was fairly certain she’d gone to sleep, he left the room. 

He walked down the hallway to where he remembered Faith’s room was and gently knocked. When he didn’t get an immediate response, he knocked again and said softly, “Please open up.”

He heard some movement inside, and the door opened so as he walked in. He noticed Baba and Yaga sitting on the floor by the far wall next to Faith, while Buffy was standing in the middle of the room, looking put out. 

“I’m sorry, I can come back.”

“No, stay,” Buffy replied with a nod, “I was just leaving.”

“ _I’m coming with you_.” Faith demanded, but Buffy just stared her down. 

“You’re not. You’re _too close_ to this, Faith—and we both know how you tend to go off half cocked when you get this way. You’re angry, I get it. You want to be pissed at me, fine. But these girls have been clocking field duty for years and this is the price we all pay.”

“You’re saying I’m a _liability_?”

Buffy sighed. “I’m asking you to tell me honestly if you’re in a good head space right now? If this is so you don’t feel guilty for not being there last night, tough. You can’t be there every night and you can’t take it on yourself.”

“But you always could, _right_?”

“ _Yes_!” Buffy hissed out, “Because what choice did you leave me with? You didn’t have my back!”

Faith stood up and snarled. “And you didn’t have mine either, you _fucking bitch_! You lied to me...for months!! You didn’t give me all the information and then got pissy when I didn’t figure it out about Gwendolyn. I lost two Watchers that I saw as surrogate parents—saw both of them gutted in front of me! One because I was too green and another because I was too stupid, _right_? I trusted the wrong people, so it’s sucks to be me! Fuck you, B! Did you ever once think it was easy for me to watch you with your perfect family, your perfect Watcher and your perfect friends and know that I was just the afterthought? The Slayer that wasn’t supposed to exist! Second Best Faith!”

“Oh get over it, already!” Buffy screamed, and he glanced over his shoulder at the junior Slayers who were standing there horrified, watching the scene unfold. “You fucked that up yourself. No one is to blame but you, Faith—for all the shit choices you’ve made!”

“Like when you stabbed me in the stomach and left me for dead?!”

He hissed out at that confession, but Faith’s expression darkened, and then her dogs started to snarl as if they could sense her emotions. 

“You just don’t get it, Buffy—and you _never will._ ”

“ _What don’t I get?!_ ”

Faith went to open her mouth, but no sound came out and then she pushed past Buffy—whistling for her dogs. He however, was frozen in place until he heard the front door slam. 

Then he turned to Buffy and gritted out... 

“I don’t know _why_ you two feel the need to do this, but it _**stops right now**_! You don’t have all the pertinent information, Buffy—and you definitely don’t have all the answers and one day, when Faith finally trusts you enough to tell you her truth, you’re going to regret today.”

He didn’t have time to wait for a response, as he turned and stormed out after Faith, catching up with her at the elevator. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, feeling her body shivering as she valiantly tried to hold in everything she was feeling. 

“Faith, I’m right here and I’m _not_ going anywhere, okay? Stop struggling, please. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Baba and Yaga seemed to sense their mistress was in no danger, but they hovered all the same. 

Then Faith surprised him when she turned into his embrace and gripped onto him for dear life, whispering pleadingly, “Just get me out of here, _please_?”

“You’ve got it, Gorgeous.” 

“I don’t want to leave Vi.” She admitted, and he pulled back and ran his hands through her hair, taking in her distress. 

“I know,” he soothed, “and trust me, she’ll understand. But for now, we need to get you to calm down and that’s not going to happen here. Do you trust me?”

Faith’s eyes glistened as she gazed up at him—her entire body radiating pain. 

“I do.” She replied, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. 

He rubbed his thumbs along her cheeks tenderly, and nodded in finality. 

“Then let’s go.”

“Okay.”

Bruce glanced over Faith’s shoulder and saw Rona standing there observing them. 

“Go,” Rona said briskly, “and don’t worry about Vi. We’ve got her back. You take care of you and find some way to get back out in the field when you’re ready.”

Faith swallowed heavily, going over and giving Rona a brief hug, whispering something in the younger Slayer’s ear, and Rona nodded. 

“I know you both have a shitty past, but we need you both to figure it out. No matter what, we are a team, like you always say, Faith. We are...”

“ _Family_.” Faith finished, and Rona clapped her on the shoulder. 

“Buffy has her family, and that’s fine. But this...us...especially you, me and Vi...”

“I get it.” Faith said with a firm nod. “Keep me posted, and if she needs anything let me know.”

She glanced over at him, her expression open and he sighed and nodded. 

“If you and Violet want to come and stay near Faith, I have an apartment located two floors down from my Penthouse. It’s furnished, and it might give you both a breather. Plus, it might be a wise to have more than a single base of operations here in Gotham, just in case.”

Rona smirked. “I’ll talk to the grinch and see what she thinks.”

Faith huffed out a snort. 

“Be safe, Rona.”

“Five by five, Bitch. Just keep an eye out and stay out of trouble.”

“Always.”


	23. Official, and all that Crap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith finds out about the Joker’s plans and makes a move, which pisses Bruce off.

Four days had passed since the debacle at Gotham Terrace, and Faith had called Vi every hour it seemed, to check in on her. She continually paced the Penthouse, Baba and Yaga following her everywhere she went, and Bruce could see that she was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. 

Lucius, had managed to fabricate a rough digital sketch of Faith’s new costume, which left him wondering how much he’d be distracted by it. Faith had told him she’d prefer if they’d patrolled separately, as she didn’t like being distracted either, and felt that it was wiser for them to do their own thing. 

He wasn’t sure he liked that idea any better either. 

He’d met with Gordon and Dent, the same night after Lau was questioned and as predicted, the Triad accountant agreed to roll on Maroni, the only principal left in the mob shakedown. RICO warrants had been issued for he and his associates, as well as several lower level enforcers in both Gambol’s and the Chechen’s organizations. 

The arrests took place that afternoon. 

The Joker had decided to rob one of the mob banks, that Gordon’s task force had been monitoring. This made little sense to him, and he’d gone to the bank dressed as Batman and seen the footage. 

All the lackeys had killed each other one by one, under the Joker’s orders—until the last one was shot by the villain himself. 

The strangest thing was the Joker seemed to be working alone. It was clear from the confrontation with the Bank Manager, that the bank was mob run, and the Joker seemed to be aware of it. 

Which again, made no sense.

Then there was the news, which still seemed unusually interested in their daily reporting of he and Faith’s relationship, and he knew that Faith was getting a case of cabin fever because she couldn’t go outside in anonymity anymore. 

Currently, it was after dinner and like clockwork, she was pacing out on the terrace talking to Violet or Rona...or both. 

He’d asked Alfred to open up the apartment downstairs, and it was now ready for Violet and Rona if they so chose to come and stay. He was getting to the point where he thought it might be a good idea to have Faith stay there too, because as much as he enjoyed having her in his bed—he was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic.

Tugging on his collar, and loosening his tie, he sighed when he’d heard Faith’s voice elevating slightly, before she nodded at something and then her phone clicked closed. She turned around and gripped the railing, her head cast downwards and her shoulders tensed.

He glanced back down at the folder that Lucius had given him that afternoon, with all the information he could find on Jack Napier and it was basically a juvenile criminal record a mile long for assault, attempted assault, animal cruelty, theft, burglary...

But at the age of eighteen, it was like Napier had disappeared off the face of the earth. 

He’d been thrown out of St. Swithin’s in Boston about two months before he’d disappeared, and Bruce figured his attempted rape and assault on Faith had likely been the impetus for his sudden disappearance. 

There was a picture of the Joker as a teenager, and even in the photo—He could see the manic gleam in the boy’s blue eyes, which were hardened and past feeling. 

Gazing out towards Faith again, he blanched when he noticed she was no longer standing there. He looked around and didn’t see her anywhere. Standing up he went to head upstairs, when he heard a thumping sound coming from down the hallway to his right. 

Shaking his head, he headed down in that direction.

When he arrived at the last door on the left, he smirked at the sounds coming from inside. 

Opening the door carefully, he peered around the corner and noticed Faith in a workout outfit of fitted sweats and a singlet, as she was taking out her veritable frustrations on his punching bag. 

With no gloves. 

He stood back and watched her work, her hand movements quick and sharp. Her footwork precise and effortless. A few roundhouse kicks and upper cuts to the bag and her pace proceeded to speed up to a blistering intensity that had his mouth opening in appreciation. 

“Are you going to stand there and gawk at me all night?” She huffed, as she stopped her forward motion and glanced at him through the mirror. 

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were done talking on the phone.”

“Yeah, I’d noticed you were engrossed in work, so I decided to give you some space.” As she said this, she reached for a bottle of water. “Alfred mentioned the apartment downstairs is ready. I’m going to head down there tonight.”

He lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything as he wasn’t sure it was a bad idea. 

“If you want.” Was all he said, and Faith scoffed but shook her head. 

“It’s what _you_ want, Wayne, and don’t lie. You’ve been on edge for days.”

“And you haven’t?”

Faith turned around and faced him, and her expression was emotionless. 

“We didn’t sign up to live together when we decided to start...”

“Fucking each other?” He finished succinctly, and she shrugged. 

“Sure.”

“What do you want me to _say_ , Faith? I’m on edge because you are. You’re pissed at being cooped up, you’re irritated you can’t go out and Slay, and you probably on some level blame me for encouraging you to seek out your heritage. Am I missing anything here?”

He watched bemused as Faith plopped down unceremoniously on the gym floor pad and stared up at him, her mouth pulled down into a heavy frown. 

“First off? I’ll own the fact that my mood has been wacky, and I’ll even cop to the fact that I’m antsy cause I can’t Slay. But no where in any of my thoughts these past few days, _have I ever once put any blame on you. Maybe that’s just your own guilt talking?”_

Walking inside and pulling off his tie, letting it hang around his neck...he repositioned himself on the floor across from Faith. 

“Maybe.” Was all he said. 

“I know communication is not either one of our strong points, but don’t lie to me and tell me you haven’t missed having this place to yourself. I’m not your responsibility, Bruce.”

“Is that what you think I’m feeling? That you’re my responsibility?”

“Maybe. You do take your responsibilities seriously, whether it be to your company or Gotham. This between us was a surprise for both of us, and definitely not planned or expected. I don’t want to be a burden and I sure as hell don’t want to intrude. You haven’t gone out except twice to talk to Gordon, since we got back from Zurich and that’s not fair to you. Just because I’m not mobile right now, is no reason for you not to be out there and doing your thing. It’s a part of who you are, Bruce—and I won’t take that away from you. You’ll resent me if that happens.”

Cocking his head in wonder, he had to admit that Faith continuously surprised him. He’d make assumptions and then she’d obliterate them with her disarming honesty and intuitiveness.

“ _How do you do that?”_

Her soft laugh had him replying in kind. 

He watched her stand up and eyed her as she walked over to him and kissed the top of his head sweetly. 

“Go out tonight, and be the Dark Knight Gotham needs you to be. I’ll be fine. Maybe you can beat up a thug or two for me?”

He chuckled as he held out his hand and grinned, as Faith pulled him effortlessly to his feet. 

“Giles did tell me I’d need some better training techniques to take on vamps and such. Maybe you might know someone who could help me with that?”

Doe brown eyes considered him for a moment before she said seriously, “I’m not sure I’m the best person for that job, Bruce. I tend to get very focused and I’m not exactly known for being patient, nor pulling my punches.”

“I think you might be surprised, but I’m a lot tougher than I look, Gorgeous.”

Her head tilted back in sweet laughter, causing him to nip playfully at her neck that smelled heady of musk, vanilla and sweat. Breathing in deeply...He groaned and then huffed when Faith pushed him away. 

“No distractions, Batman. _Go yonder and kick some ass!_ ” 

He snorted out a laugh as he gripped her into him while cupping her cheek reverently. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For _assuming_.”

Faith’s face scrunched in confusion, but then she nodded in comprehension. 

“You thought I’d be pissed and resent you going out there without me.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not that petty,” She quipped and then clarified, “ _Usually_.”

“I’ll remember that.”

He went to leave but her hand on his arm halted him. “Just be safe and call me if you need me. I still have that mask you gave me, and I might even have a wig somewhere I can put on if I need to.”

“I will, to both.”

She nodded and watched Bruce leave, a heavy feeling settling in her chest that she couldn’t define. 

It was odd, watching him go and knowing that she would be the one waiting for him to return. 

_How ironic._

When she knew Bruce had gone, she’d packed up her belongings and headed downstairs with her dogs. She’d spent the night wide awake, staring out into the darkness and wondering if Bruce would find her when he got back home. 

He hadn’t. 

And she wasn’t exactly surprised, even if it hurt her a little bit. 

The next morning she got dressed and took the dogs down to the dog atrium, and was watching them sniff around when her phone rang. 

Lips quirking at the caller ID, she picked it up on the third ring. 

“Hello, John. How are you, today?”

“I’m well. I was thinking about you this morning and thought I’d call and see what you’ve been up to. I can’t imagine it’s been fun living like a hermit, especially with a brooding Wayne underfoot.”

She snickered. “I’m not staying with Bruce anymore. I have my own apartment now. It’s a few floors down from his, but it’s nice to have my own space.”

“Are you thinking of staying there permanently?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet, honestly. In fact, I was supposed to meet with Bruce’s Press Secretary at some point this week, but I’ve been ghosting the poor guy. My heart’s not in it.”

“You sound _blue_.”

“And you keep calling me trying to get me to go out with you.”

“Have you told Wayne?”

“I don’t play those games, John. Normally, I’d be my normal reclusive self but you’re rather annoyingly persistent.”

“Did you see the paper today?” John asked softly. 

“Nope. Don’t tend to read that crap.”

“Well, you should. Apparently last night, the Joker or one of his people attacked Commissioner Loeb. Poisoned him somehow, at least that’s what the initial report is saying.”

She perked up. “Was anyone else hurt.”

“Not to my knowledge, though Loeb is dead.”

“ _Shit_.”

“That was my thought too.”

Her brain tried to process what the play would be for the Joker to go after Loeb, and her breath hitched. 

“John, I have to go.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

She hung up her phone and dialed Bruce’s number, but he didn’t pick up. She then went up to the Penthouse, but he wasn’t there either. 

She called Buffy. 

“Faith.”

“B, I know things between us aren’t good right now, but I just found out that Loeb was killed last night.”

“Yes, the Joker left a calling card.”

“Buffy, you need to come and get me now.”

“Why?”

“The Joker is going to go after all the parties involved in putting the mob away. Which means...”

“Judge Sorillo and...”

“Harvey Dent.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Have the girls go and scope out Harvey and Rachel too. We need to get to Judge Sorillo’s home. Do you know where she lives?”

Buffy whispered something to Willow in the background and she could hear the witch doing her investigate thing on her laptop. 

“I got the address. It’s two blocks from you.”

“Shit. I’m leaving now.”

“Faith! You _can’t_!”

“I have to. I can disguise myself easily enough.”

“But...”

“Gotta go!

It took her all of ten minutes to dress in her black leather pants, jean jacket and she put her hair up into a pink wig she owned that Rona and Eve has brought with the rest of her stuff. Sunglasses and a hoodie too and she was out the service entrance with no one the wiser with her dogs in tow.

When she got to the Judge’s address, she’d timed it perfectly as there were two plain clothes police officers at her front door, telling Sorillo that she needed to leave her home for safety concerns. 

She silently commanded Baba and Yaga to stay behind a large bush and didn’t waste another second as she strode behind the first cop and pinched his neck, knocking him out instantly. The second cop she head butted, and pushed him down as she said lowly to the Judge...

“They’re working for the mob.”

“How do you know?”

She finished knocking out the second goon as she glanced around and noticed thankfully, that no one was watching them. She pulled both cops over to the secluded part of the porch, tying them up with the zip ties she always kept handy—before she checked their pockets. 

Sure enough, the second one had a remote detonator of some kind. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Sorillo asked startled.

She nodded. “Car bomb detonator, most likely.”

“ _Who are you?_ ”

She sighed, before she carefully removed her wig and sunglasses, and watched the Judge’s eyes widen as she took in her in. 

“Your Grace?”

“That’d be me.”

“How?”

“Really long story, Your Honor—and we don’t have time for this right now. I need you to trust me, can you do that?”

“Of course.”

She put back on her disguise and peeked around the flower trellis, hiding them from view. Luckily the Judge’s driveway was rather secluded too, so she dragged both the police officers into the car—rolled down the windows and shut the passenger door. She then grabbed the garden hose and squirted them both, smiling as they sputtered awake. 

“Hey boys.”

With her glasses and wig in place, it was unlikely they’d recognize her but they seemed to be more stunned and then horrified, as they’d belatedly realized they were trapped inside the Judge’s car.

“Yeah, sucks to be you both right about now.”

She held up the detonator. 

“Who are you?” Goon one, spit out. 

“Neighborhood watch.” She quipped back. “And I’m going to be asking the questions here. If I don’t like your answers? You both go ‘ _boom_!’ Capiche?”

“Fuck you.” The second goon, growled. 

“Is this one of those instant timer thingy’s? If I press the button is the explosion automatic, or delayed?”

Both thugs glared at her. 

“You know? Maybe I’ll just let my friends have a go at you. Vampires so love to suck mortals dry.”

That was definitely the right thing to say, as they both paled noticeably. 

“Who are you?” Goon one, asked.

“I’m the Slayer. I’m sure my reputation proceeds me, but I’m kinda the black sheep of Slayers. I took out the Chechen and Crane.”

“That was Batman.”

“That was _me_.” She snorted. “Where’s the Joker? And is he working for or with, Maroni?”

“ _Fuck you!_ ” Goon one, snarled.

“Wrong answer.” She said, as she whistled clearly. The growls of her dogs preceded them as they came around the corner. 

“Holy fuck!” Goon two, blurted out. “Those are the Chechen’s dogs!”

“Mine now. Tell me where the Joker is and I’ll spare you a nice mauling. You did see what happened to the Chechen, didn’t you?”

“You turned his own dogs against him?”

“Yep.” 

Both men looked at each other in fear, and then the second one said, “He’s holed up in Maroni’s construction site down in Little Italy near the waterfront.”

“Who put out the hit out on Judge Sorillo?”

“Maroni.”

“And Dent?”

“They’re going after Dent sometime after Loeb’s funeral.”

“Who else?”

“They plan on taking out the Mayor at the funeral too.”

“Who’s the one running the show?”

“Joker.”

“What’s his play?”

“We don’t know.”

“I hope you’re both being honest with me. Please understand that I can get to you anywhere and have unlimited resources at my disposal.” She shut the door and waved cattily, whistling for her dogs to follow her. 

She then went back over to the Judge’s porch and called Buffy. 

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Judge Sorillo’s. Bad guys in her car and there’s a bomb inside it. It was set to go off and kill her. How close are you?”

“I’m almost there. Are you taking her with you?”

“No, you’ll have to take her with you. Keep her safe. Have the Judge call it in, to Gordon. He can come collect his dirty cops.”

“Bruce called me, Faith.” Buffy said lowly, “He’s looking for you and is beyond pissed.”

“ _Too bad._ ”

She hung up, not wanting to open that can of worms right now. 

Buffy showed up exactly five minutes later, scoffed at the goons in the car while Rona and Colleen sneered at them both. The Judge packed a bag and as soon as she left with Buffy—she finally called Bruce. 

“ _Faith_!”

“Sorillo is safe. The Joker had a car bomb placed that would’ve killed her had I not gotten here when I did. She’s gonna let Gordon know two of his dirty cops are in said car, tied up and singing like canaries.”

“Fuck. How did they not recognize you?”

“Disguise. Give me some credit.” She paused and then said flatly, “I have a current location on the Joker.”

“Faith...”

“He’s going to target the Mayor then Harvey next. I know where he is.” 

“You can’t go in without backup!” Bruce’s voice elevated, and she could tell he was in his car driving somewhere like a bat out of hell. 

“Krasivyy...”

“ _ **No!”**_ He demanded, but she could hear something else in his voice that had her gut clenching. “What did you say to Vi the other night?”

“That’s a low blow, Krasivyy.”

“It is, but a fair one, so stay put. I’m on my way and if you aren’t there when I arrive, I’m so going to bend you over my knees and turn your perfect ass bright red.”

She blushed at the image, but all she said was, “ _Whatever_. I’ll be on the corner of Park and Lincoln in the old alley. I have Baba and Yaga with me too. If you’re in the Lambo, they’re not going to fit.”

“Shit!” 

She smirked when she heard Bruce’s tires squeal and then him muttering obscenities under his breath. 

“Go straight home, Faith. _**I’m. Not. Kidding.”**_

“Sure.”

She hung up the phone before Bruce could chastise her further. She reattached the leashes and walked out down the front walkway, smiling widely at the dirty cops as sirens sounded off in the distance. As she made it down to the corner of Park and turned left on Lincoln, she saw two cop cars whizz by. One a patrol car and one an unmarked vehicle. She stood there and waited for a few more moments until Gordon showed, then she walked nonchalantly the rest of the way back to Bruce’s building. 

Sneaking back into the service elevator to the 23rd floor where her apartment was located, she came face to face with a very livid Bruce Wayne. 

He eyed the pink wig distastefully, and then whistled and pointed. Her mouth opened in shock when Baba and Yaga left the room immediately.

“How?”

He didn’t answer, as he continued to glare. 

“Nice wig.” He bit out. 

“Gets the job done.” She replied cheekily. 

“Do you know how foolish you were?”

“Why? No one noticed me.”

“Buffy called me. You told Judge Sorillo your real identity?”

“ _And_?” She scoffed. “I called you too and you didn’t pick up. _Sucks to be you._ Sorillo is a good community servant by all accounts, proven with the fact that Maroni and the Joker tried to have her killed. He and Maroni are working together but the Joker is calling the shots. The dirty cops know about Vamps, and they know about Slayers. They weren’t surprised by the title, so that means...”

“The cops, Maroni and the Joker are all working together towards a larger goal.”

“Yes. _You’re welcome_.”

“ **I wasn’t thanking you!”**

“Sure.”

She went to walk past Bruce and he gripped her arm, and the next thing she knew it? 

She was being lifted up into his arms. 

“ _What!?”_

“You’re in trouble, Gorgeous.”

“Oh fucking hell no, Krasivyy! I don’t do submission.”

“ _Wanna bet?_ ”

She arched her back at the same time she gripped Bruce’s shoulder, which knocked them both to the ground. 

They laid like that for a moment, splayed on top of each other and catching their collective breaths, and then they were literally tearing each other’s clothes off—biting, scratching, pulling—fighting for dominance. 

When Bruce finally got her pinned underneath him, he clamped his mouth down on hers forcefully, holding her in place with a hand behind her head and the other one gripping her right leg like a vice with all his strength. 

When he broke the kiss on a ragged intake of breath, he could see Faith’s eyes were blown wide, nearly blackened raw with desire and he knew his probably were too. 

“You fucking _scared_ me.” He gritted out reluctantly. 

She instantly deflated, knowing instinctively how difficult an admission that was for Bruce to make.

“Tell me you want this?” He whispered out emotively. “Tell me you really want to **try**.”

“I do.” She gripped her hands into his hair and pulled him down so his body was now fully in contact with hers, cradled between her thighs. “I’ve never wanted to try as much, as I want to try with you.”

He nodded, kissed her deeply and then pushed himself into her. 

She threw her head back and moaned loudly at how utterly wonderful Bruce always felt when they were joined like this. 

He didn’t give her time to adjust either, nor did he seem particularly concerned with foreplay. 

This was hard and fast fucking...

...and she loved it. 

“Come for me.” He growled deeply in his Batman voice into her ear, and shockingly, her body responded as it arched on command, detonating around Bruce as she cried out his name in wonder. 

His desperate groan of her name deeply into her neck, made her heart clench with something utterly foreign and unexpected. 

They stayed like that for an interminable amount of time, until he lifted himself up and stared down at her with a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. 

“Don’t gloat.” She snarked, with absolutely no heat as she stuck her tongue out playfully, causing him to chuckle. 

“So, you don’t do submission, huh?”

“You’re such a jerk.”

“Yes. I’m many things, Gorgeous—but right now I’m thinking that you and I need to set some ground rules.”

“For what?”

“ _For us._ ”

“I don’t understand.”

“Faith?” He rolled over and pulled her into him, before standing up and grabbing a blanket off the edge of the couch. He settled them onto the sofa and nestled Faith into his side carefully. He then lifted his body so he was looming over her, and watched her eyes alight with a knowing gleam. 

Fuck, she was _perfect_. 

“If we’re really going to try and do this, then we need to maybe define a few things?”

“Such as?”

“What the official status of our relationship is?”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Where is this coming from?”

He huffed and tried to look away, but Faith cupped his chin and forced him to keep eye contact as she lifted a questioning eyebrow at him. 

“I spoke with John Daggett today. He was supposed to sponsor a fundraiser in a few weeks for Dent at his Brownstone, but a pipe broke in his place and there’s huge water leak. He asked if it would be possible to hold it here. Apparently, I was the first person he thought of. He also just happened to casually mention to me, that somehow he knew that you’d gotten your own place. Now, how would he have known that?”

“Because I told him this morning when he called me.”

“And has he been calling you a lot?”

“A few times, why?” Her eyes lit up in understanding and she smacked him lightly on his chest. “You’re _jealous_?”

He grimaced, but she started snickering. “ _You are!”_ She beamed. “Oh, Krasivyy! Don’t you get it, yet? There’s never going to be a reason for you to be jealous unless you decide this isn’t what you want anymore. When that day comes, I promise to leave...no questions asked.”

Frowning in disbelief, he bit out, “Why would you’d assume I’d want that?”

She shrugged but didn’t reply, and he could feel his temper rising as he sat them both up—giving his Slayer his unwavering attention. 

“Faith? Why in the fuck would you ever assume that I’d just toss you aside?”

“Bruce, we both know that I’m no one’s future girl. That’s not a role I’ll ever be destined to play. Say whatever you want, but I know that someday you’re going to want things I probably can’t give you.”

“Such as?”

“A wife, a family?”

He sat back stunned. “I didn’t think we were even near that level of commitment.”

“I agree. But, I honestly don’t think that’s ever going to be me. I’m not mommy material. I’d probably screw some poor kid up worse than me.”

Cocking his head in confusion, he just said, “You have good natural instincts with Vi and Rona. So I don’t understand why you’d assume that about yourself.”

“Do you want kids?” She prevaricated.

He thought about it seriously for a moment and admitted that he’d never even considered the possibility before. 

Not even with Rachel. 

“I’ve never even thought about it, to be honest. I’d always assumed that being Batman meant no relationship and no kids, and I was more than happy with that choice.”

“Was?”

“Still am?” He shrugged helplessly. “How can I deal in hypotheticals, Gorgeous? It’s not something I see for my future. I don’t envision myself as a Father, and I’m fairly certain I would never want that responsibility. The world is too screwed up to think about bringing an innocent child into this life.”

She nodded. A part of her felt genuinely relieved, but surprisingly? 

There was a smaller part of her that felt her stomach drop... 

...and she was smart enough to recognize the emotion causing it too.

 _Disappointment_. 

“Well then,” she cleared her throat awkwardly, “I guess that’s one less thing to worry about?”

Bruce half-smirked and nodded. “How about we not think about what might happen and just concentrate on what is?”

“Okay.”

“So, Miss Faith Lehane? Would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

“Like, officially and all that crap?”

“Yes.”

“We keeping separate spaces?”

“For now.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

“Good.”

“So, did you tell Daggett that you’d host this shindig?”

He sighed but nodded reluctantly. “I did.” He then smirked. “And it will be your first official outing as my girlfriend.”

“Lucky me.”

He sealed their deal with a kiss, and inexplicably felt a twinge of regret and sadness in his gut—but it would be weeks later before he’d figure out why.


	24. Cat Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an emotional misunderstanding, Bruce gifts Faith with her own vigilante suit.

The next morning Faith woke up in her new apartment with the sunlight streaming in, and a smiling Vi grinning down at her. 

“What the _fuck_! Who let you out of the house?”

“Buffy did. I’m all better and she said I could come hang for a few days, if you wanted the company, that is?”

She rolled over fully and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

“Did Buffy go check out the construction site last night?”

“Yeah, both she and Bruce did, along with Rona and Shannon.”

“And?”

“No Joker.”

“Fuck!”

“From what Buffy said, it looked like someone had been there. We’re going to stake it out for now.”

“What time is it?”

Violet glanced over at the clock that was blinking, so she checked her cell phone and said brightly, “It’s just after nine.”

“ _What?!”_ She shot out of bed and ran for the bathroom. “Shit!”

“What is it?”

“Eric, Bruce’s PR guy is coming over today. He’s helping me with some stuff I need to get done, that I’ve been putting off.”

Violet watched Faith brush her teeth and then rush into her closet and grab a pair of jeans and loose fitted tank top. 

“You know, Faith? You really need to invest in some new clothes.”

“Why?”

“Because _stupid_ , you’re going to be meeting all kinds of uppity snobs and you don’t want to give them a reason to treat you unkindly.”

She snickered. “Vi, I hate to break it to you but as much as I hate the idea, I’m kinda like royalty now. So if anything, people are going to be sucking up to me.”

“That’s even _worse_.”

“I know, right?”

She plopped down and stared morosely out the window. “Karl Stroessner, from that bank in Zurich is supposed to be sending Lucius full financials on all the Romanov money. I’m keeping it in Zurich, but he’s going to set up an account for me.”

“What about taxes.”

“Inheritance laws apparently when you’re a Royal, are a bit different. Technically, since I haven’t taken possession of the money yet, I can decide how I want to do it. It’s kinda complicated, but he’s working the details out for me.”

“Do you know how much money?”

“Not a fucking clue.” She went into her medicine cabinet and grabbed her birth control pill, swallowing it whole and taking a sip of water. “Bruce asked me last night to be his girlfriend.”

Vi sat back and grinned. “Does that surprise you?”

“ _Hell yes._ He’s Bruce Wayne...and I’m just...”

“Don’t! You _always_ do that, Faith. Sell yourself short. You’re not second best anymore...fuck, I don’t think you ever were. The girls have been kinda quiet this past week since your fight with Buffy. It’s bringing up a lot of bad memories...”

“From Sunnydale?”

“Yeah.” 

“That was a sucky time.”

“But it was also good too, right? We all came together and fought the good fight. That’s what we’re trying to do here, too.”

“I know, and part of me just feels fucking useless sitting on the sidelines like this. I want to get out there and find Jack Napier.”

“When are you going to tell me what really happened?”

Faith turned and gave the younger Slayer a hard glare. “Violet. I care about you, you know this but I don’t want to discuss that time in my life.”

“You told Bruce?”

She sighed and nodded. “I did, and part of me still can’t figure out why.”

“You care about him.”

“I suppose I do.”

“You trust him?” Faith nodded, not able to get the words out. “That’s huge.” Violet admitted.

“Yeah. We talked last night, and he was pretty pissed at me for going out on my own.”

“As he should be.” Violet noticed Faith’s pensive expression, so she asked carefully, “What did you two discuss that has you so on edge?”

“Future stuff. Bruce admitted he doesn’t want to be a Father, and part of me is relieved.”

“And the other part?”

“When he said it,” She began hesitantly, “I was surprised, cause I felt disappointed. The weird thing is, I don’t get it. I’ve never wanted kids, never even wanted to be a mom. You know how fucked up our lives are? Who would want _me_ for a parent?”

Violet just shook her head at her friend in admonishment.

“You’d be a _great_ mom. You have good natural instincts and you protect the things you care about.”

“That’s nice of you to say, Vi. Naive, but nice.”

Faith’s phone rang at that moment and she sighed as she looked at who was calling her. 

Bruce had left last night, and never came back to see her...didn’t call or leave any messages where he was at. But John Daggett didn’t seem to be the kind of man who forgot the little things. It irked her, even if she couldn’t admit that it hurt her too. 

Picking up the phone, she pressed the red button and set it down. 

“I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Okay.”

Violet watched Faith go into the bathroom and picked up her phone and noticed who’d called. Shaking her head, she waited a moment before the voicemail dinged and she hit the #1 button to listen in. 

_**Hello Faith, it’s John. Just calling to check in on you and see if Wayne mentioned the fundraiser in a few weeks. I’m sure he’s got it all under control but I had to wonder if you had a dress for the occasion. I hope you don’t mind, but I contacted a friend and she’s sending over some dresses for you to look over for the event. Pick out whatever works for you. My treat. It’s the least I can do. I’ll call you tomorrow.** _

Violet sighed as she debated on whether to delete the message, but decided against it. She didn’t know who this John was, but he sounded genuine and nice. 

It was another fifteen minutes before Faith walked out of the bathroom, dressed more appropriately for the day. 

She picked up her phone and walked over to the window and listened to the message. Violet saw her shoulders deflate a bit, and she had to wonder if Faith felt uncomfortable by the overture, or if she’d wished that someone else had been as thoughtful. 

As Faith finished the message, she dialed a number and Violet heard her say the name, “ _John_ ” before a knock sounded at the apartment door. 

“I’ll get it.” Violet chirped, making a mad dash and smiling widely when she opened up the door to see a handsome man standing there. 

“Hello? Is this Miss Lehane’s apartment?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Eric?”

“Oh! Yeah! She did mention you’d be stopping by! Come on in, she’s on the phone.”

Violet led Eric to the living room area, and watched as he took out his briefcase and set up his computer along with a stack of papers. 

Faith walked in a few moments later. 

“Hey, Eric. Sorry, I had to make a phone call.”

“It’s fine, Miss Lehane.”

She cleared her throat and shook her head. “Call me, Faith—Eric. At least when we’re alone.”

The man blushed, but nodded. She then gestured to her friend. “This is Violet.”

“Hello.” Vi waved in her friendly nature and Eric smiled and nodded back. Faith then turned to Violet and asked, “Why don’t you go take the dogs to the atrium. It’s on the fourth floor. The key is by the front door.”

“Okay.”

Faith and Eric watched Violet take Baba and Yaga for their morning play time, and once she was gone they got down to business. 

“This is a stack of correspondence for you. The top six are the most urgent.”

“About?”

“Invitations mostly.”

“What’s the protocol if I refuse? Does it look bad?”

“I’m not an expert on Royal protocol, Faith. That being said, I do believe I’ve found you someone who is. He used to work for the British Government and at one time, the British Royal Family.”

“Oh? Does he have a name?”

“Roger Wyndham-Pryce.”

“ _What?!”_

Her expression was horrified, as she stared at Eric. 

“Are you okay? Do you know the man?”

“Not exactly.” She stood up and walked over to the window. “But I knew his son.”

“Knew?”

“Yes, he died three years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Eric rubbed the back of his head with his hand. “Do you want me to get in contact with him?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I need to make a few phone calls before I make that decision.”

“Sounds good.”

The rest of the morning went by fairly painlessly. Eric helped her draft responses to the pressing invites, sending her heartfelt regrets and explaining that she wouldn’t be traveling for the foreseeable future. As Eric was leaving, another knock sounded through the apartment. Faith opened the door to an older woman who looked to be in her fifties. Distinguished, classy and much taller than she was. 

“Hello,” she smiled stiffly, “you must be Annette Sinclair?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Please call me Faith.” She replied, offering the woman permission to enter, and then gaped like an idiot when an entourage of five other people entered afterwards, each carrying large dressing bags. 

She turned to Eric and rolled her eyes, causing him to smirk in amusement. 

“Mr. Wayne?”

Shrugging, as she didn’t think it was a good idea to tell Bruce’s employee that the people with the clothes in her apartment most definitely didn’t come from Bruce. 

“Thanks for your help today, Eric.”

“Not a problem, Your Grace.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, which caused him to chuckle as he left her alone with the fashion brigade. 

Turning around, she couldn’t help but notice that the tornado that was Annette, already had the bags unpacked and set up for her perusal. 

“Mr. Daggett mentioned that you were in need of some formal wear for the fundraiser. He also asked that we take the liberty of bringing you some clothes for everyday wear.”

“I’ve been living like a shut in for nearly two weeks now, so I’m not sure how much stuff I really need.”

Annette grinned, and the other people seemed amused too. 

“Do you have a favorite designer, Faith?”

“No, not really. I’m more of a motorcycle and leather kind of girl, although I did see a dress recently in Zurich that I thought was rather me.”

“Oh?” Annette brought out her laptop. “Do you remember the designer?”

“Cavalli. Bruce bought me a pantsuit.”

Annette clicked a few keystrokes and then turned her computer around. “Is this the one?”

She nodded. “That’s the one. I actually like that entire look.”

Waving her assistant over, the young man who looked to be no older than Vi was taking notes. 

“This is his 2007 Fall collection. Anything you see here is couture so we’d have to take your measurements and have them sent to Milan. There’s a chance the sample size might fit with a few adjustments, but usually these are made to order and one per customer.”

“So not something I’d get by the fundraiser?”

“No.”

“Good to know.” She stood up and looked through the dresses and other items. “I take it these are not one of a kinds?”

“Most of them are selective pieces in certain designers collections. I get sample sizes as well as exclusives for many of my more discerning clientele.”

“Can I be honest with you, Annette?”

“Of course, Faith.”

Picking up a dress that was a deep chocolate chiffon with a halter top and a daring slit up the left side, and she hummed in approval. 

“I’m not your typical client. While I can appreciate nice clothes, I’m not ever going to be one of those people that cares enough to know what’s in fashion and what’s not. I appreciate people with good instincts, and you seem like a genuine enough person.”

“Thank you, I think.” 

Faith chuckled as she sat back down and considered the older woman carefully. “I don’t like fakes and phonies, and I’m not ever going to be anything but honest. If you wish to help me navigate this nonsense, I’ll pay you well and I’ll expect two things.”

“Which are?”

“Loyalty and confidentiality. I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth, and despite appearances, I find that most people just want to be treated with respect. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would.”

“John says you know your stuff. I think he’s an okay sort, so I’m willing to take a leap and go with my gut.”

Annette tinkled out a musical laugh, and her associates all seemed to think what she’d said was hilarious, as they were laughing too. 

“I don’t think anyone has _ever_ referred to John Daggett as an ‘ _okay sort.’_ Pompous, yes. Demanding, most assuredly. Okay?” Annette shrugged helplessly, causing Faith to crack a grin. 

“Well, I would probably add persistent to your list of his more notable attributes.”

“Fair enough. Shall we get started?”

“Five by five.”

It was almost two hours later and Faith was exhausted, but she actually ended up with the first dress she’d chosen. As she was being pinned and worked over, there was another knock on her door. 

Glancing over at the time, it was just after lunch. Violet had come back about twenty minutes after Eric had left, taken one look at the whirlwind and bailed with the dogs. Faith figured she’d taken them out for a long walk. 

The knock came a second time, so she just called out, “ _come in_ ” expecting it to perhaps be Buffy or Rona—so she was surprised when Bruce walked in. 

He took one look at her and lifted a questioning eyebrow, before his brain caught up with what she was wearing and his face fell into a sexy smirk. 

“Nice dress.”

“Thanks.”

Annette glanced up at her from where she was adjusting the hem with a playful wink, causing her to snicker. 

“This looks perfect, Faith. Why don’t you go take it off and I’ll have it tailored and delivered by mid next week.”

“Thanks, Annette.”

“Not a problem. Shall I leave the other items here as well?”

She sighed, feeling Bruce’s weighted gaze boring into her back but she refused to acknowledge him just yet. 

“How about I think about it and get back to you?”

“Of course.”

She disappeared for a few moments and came back with the dress in hand, giving it over to Annette as the rest of her people started to clear out. 

Fifteen minutes later, she found herself alone with Bruce who was sitting down on the couch, stretched back in a relaxed position and she might’ve actually believed he was—but for the calculating gleam in his eyes. 

“So?” He waved a hand nonchalantly. “What brought this on?”

“Apparently I need an acceptable dress for this fundraiser thingy and since I’m a shut in and can’t go to the shops, the mountain came here.”

“And you arranged this, or did Eric help you?”

“Neither.”

“I don’t understand.”

She sighed. “John offered to get me a dress as a kind of thank you for co-hosting this shindig with you.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched as he leant forward slightly. “I wasn’t _aware_ we were co-hosting the event together.”

She knew deep down that Bruce hadn’t meant to say it like that, but his tone of voice plus the way he seemed to be irritated, was starting to piss her off. 

“Sorry, _my_ mistake.” She waved her own hand back dismissively. “I shouldn’t have made the assumption that since I was now your _supposed_ girlfriend, that I’d be by your side that night. Maybe you should do the honors yourself and leave me out of it.”

“ _Faith_...”

“Nope. Not doing this with you.” 

She headed back into her bedroom, and felt Bruce following her closely. 

“Didn’t you think that perhaps I might’ve planned to get you something?”

“No, actually...you’ve been so busy, and I didn’t want to intrude.”

“ _Fuck it all, Faith!_ You’re _not_ intruding, and wasn’t it you who told me the minute you needed me to buy you something, this was _done_?!” He was yelling now, and Bruce Wayne never yelled. “The only reason you capitulated in Zurich was because we were on a time crunch, but you made your feelings on the matter quite clear, right?”

She bit her lip hard and she felt reluctant tears slowly break free from the corner of her eye, falling down her cheek. She hesitantly wiped at it and brought a shaking hand out in front of her face, her expression utterly disbelieving. 

_What the fuck was wrong with her?_

She **never** cried. 

Taking a reflexive step back, she noticed Bruce’s face change from livid to concerned in an instant...

...and she bolted. 

She ran into her bathroom and slammed the door shut, locking it and ignoring Bruce calling out her name as she desperately tried to get her emotions under control. 

But the hard pounding on the bathroom door didn’t help either. 

“Faith! _Open_ the door!”

Covering her ears, she desperately tried to concentrate on her breathing but it wasn’t helping, she just felt like her chest was going to explode into two pieces. 

“Faith, _please_!” Bruce’s voice was quieter now, almost cajoling as he placed both hands on the door and she heard his forehead thump against it in frustration. “Gorgeous, open up. _I’m sorry, okay?_ This is all new for me too. I’m trying, Faith. Why didn’t you tell me John offered to get you a dress? Why keep that from me?”

“He just offered this morning and then the next thing I knew, Annette was here and I didn’t want to be rude. It seemed like a nice enough idea and...” her voice fell away and he sighed, before he queried pleadingly, “And?”

She bit her lip again as she felt another wave of tears threaten to fall. 

“You’re off doing your thing and I’m left here all alone and I _hate_ it! I hate not knowing what’s going on and I hate that I’m so fucking worried about you when I don’t hear from you. Half the time I don’t sleep, and I feel like such a fucking clingy sap! And it’s so not me, and I hate this!” She wailed.

He listened to Faith rant, and felt his heart burst at how ridiculously cute she was being. She really hated not being out patrolling, and doing her Slayer thing. She hated relying on others to fight the good fight, and she worried about him. She didn’t say she hated him being out there, she just hated how it made her worry because she couldn’t be out there fighting alongside him.

And it made him wonder if he would ever stop underestimating her capacity to surprise him. 

“That’s why I’m here, Gorgeous—and why I was gone all morning. Lucius finished your suit and it’s upstairs.”

The door immediately flung open on his last word and he couldn’t help but smile adoringly at how excited Faith looked in that moment, even if her eyes were teary and a bit puffy. 

“Really? My very own _Batsuit_?”

“Well, not that exactly, but I’m sure you’ll love it.”

He chuckled as Faith flung herself at him and as he caught her, she wrapped her perfect legs around his waist and placed happy kisses all over his face and neck. 

“Take me upstairs! I want to see it _now_!”

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

He walked out to the elevator with Faith still clinging to him, and when they got inside he kissed her tenderly. As the door slid open to his penthouse, Alfred was there and his expression went from shocked to amused in an instant. 

“Master Wayne, should I leave you two alone?”

Faith giggled, and the sound warmed his heart. 

He smirked over her shoulder at Alfred and replied, “You have the rest of the day off, Alfred.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Faith craned her neck behind her and watched Alfred leave, before she jumped down and looked around like a little kid searching for her Christmas present. 

“Where is it?”

“Upstairs in the secret room. Come on.”

He snorted out a laugh as she dashed upstairs, and he smiled as he gave chase...stopping when he found her placing her hands on the spot where the invisible biosensor was. 

He walked over and pressed his thumb against it, allowing it to open. He ignored her huff as he pushed the door open and then watched her eyes widen at the stellar effort of one Lucius Fox. 

Faith’s suit was truly a thing of _beauty_. It was figure hugging, had a utility belt and harness just like his did. The boots were combat style, steel toed and the suit was made from the same light tri-weaved Kevlar his was, except Faith’s was only located in the chest area. The rest of the suit was a thermo-absorbent polymer, which reflected back infra-red signals. The mask was a bit different as it was more cat-like than bat-like, but leave it to Lucius to have a sense of humor. 

“ _Cat_ woman?”

“Lucius idea.”

“Why?”

“I think his exact words were—you strut like a panther, so you needed a costume that fit your predator persona.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “I really like him.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“Can I try it on?”

“That’s the idea.”

She ran her hands along the material lovingly, before she took it off the hangar and went into the changing area to put it on. When she walked in ten minutes later, fully decked out—Bruce felt his dick hardening instantly. 

“ _Fuck me_.” He whispered out, leering lecherously at the goddess before him. “How in then hell am I supposed to concentrate on fighting bad guys, when you look like that?”

She did a full turn and his eyes were glued onto her ass, which was always a thing of perfection, but in her costume?

**Damn!!**

“Take it off now, or I’m going to tear it off you and ruin it before you ever get the chance to wear it.”

She snorted, but did as instructed and when she came out a few moments later, she was completely nude. 

He grinned as she sauntered over and straddled him in the only chair within the room. It was a rather simple chair with no arm rests, leather and contoured to fit his body perfectly. 

He watched through hooded eyes as she slithered down in front of him and proceeded to divest him of his slacks, boxers, shoes and socks. He had left his suit jacket downstairs before he’d gone to see her the first time, so all he had on was his white dress shirt and silver tie. 

“How do you want to come, Krasivyy?”

“However you want me to, Domina.”

“Good answer.” She licked her lips in anticipation before her hands ran down his muscular thighs and she spread them a bit wider so she could adjust herself more comfortably between them. 

She glanced down at his cock, which was glistening with need and he watched avidly as she flitted her tongue out and licked around his mushroom head like she was enjoying a fucking lollipop or an ice cream cone. 

She repeated the action several times before she took him into her mouth and proceeded to render him utterly incoherent. 

As he watched his Slayer’s perfect mouth work him over with such enthusiasm and need...he wondered not for the first time, how he’d ever gotten so lucky to find Faith. 

Not only that, but convince her he was worth trying for. 

She continued to bring him to the brink and when he threw his head back on the chair in frustration, he didn’t see her immediately until she pushed him back and straddled him again, with his dick in hand as she literally engulfed him into her tight, wet heat with a single push. 

“Fuck!” He moaned out, instinctively reaching for Faith’s hips. Her legs wrapped around the back of the chair and her hands gripped the top of it on either side of his head...

...and then she rode him...

... **hard**. 

It was fast, and furious, and altogether earth shattering. She’d bring him to the edge only to deny him time and time again. When he finally bit down into her shoulder and grunted out a “ _Please, Domina_ ”...only then...did she allow him to come. 

His entire lower body lifted six inches off the chair, his hands gripping Faith so hard, he knew she’d have hand-sized bruises on her body, but he just didn’t care. 

He literally _roared_ out his completion. 

And when she slammed down flush onto him, she came violently too, her channel gripping onto him like a fucking vice, he felt his body shudder as he suddenly and unexpectedly, came for a second time—not quite as hard, but something akin to a blissful aftershock. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his heart was pounding so hard, he thought he was having a heart attack. 

Faith’s body slowly continued to rock onto his, with him still firmly deep inside of her as she milked everything he had to offer out of him. Her heavy breathing on his neck was interspersed with little nips and kisses that were meant to soothe and calm, even as they both tried to breathe normally, and he tried to regain the feeling in his extremities. 

“You’re fucking _incredible_.” He whispered passionately.

“You too, Krasivyy.”

He lifted Faith’s head off his shoulder and cupped her cheeks in his hands, gazing ardently into her eyes. 

“Domina? May I speak?”

She quirked an eyebrow at the unusual request, but she nodded. 

“Will you allow me to take care of you?”

“In what way?”

“Will you allow me to shower you with whatever you need?”

“And what do I need, Krasivyy?”

“I think you need a partner who is willing to be mindful where you’re not.”

“And how am I not mindful?”

“You can’t always be mindful of this new life you’ve been thrust into. There are going to be challenges, obstacles and expectations that you may not foresee.”

“Like new clothes?”

“That’s one example.”

“Why ask me this way, Krasivyy?”

“Because, I don’t want you to think I’m buying your affections, and I’m trying to be respectful of the boundaries you’ve set, while making sure you’re taken care of in the ways you deserve.”

“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Did I hurt your feelings?”

“By accepting a gift from a man who _wasn’t me?_ Tell me, Gorgeous? If the roles had been reversed?”

She sighed and hung her head down in shame. “I would’ve wanted to kick whomever the girls ass was up and down Gotham twice over.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what is wrong with me lately, but I feel like my emotions are all over the place. I _never_ cry.”

“Things are overwhelming right now and you’re handling it better than you give yourself credit for. Just talk to me? I know neither one of us are stellar with the communication, but we need to do better.”

“Agreed. But to be honest, I’m not sure what is part of this whole etiquette thing and what’s not. I know Ivan suggested a tutor of some kind, and as much as I hate the idea?”

“You’re thinking it might be needed.”

“Yeah.” Her face fell as she bit her lip, and he ran his hand through her hair as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s...fuck, I don’t know exactly.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound concerning.”

“No, it’s just that Eric came by today...”

“He’d mentioned it to me when I saw him this morning.”

“Yeah, Uhm...he found someone who’s interested in working with me.”

“Like a Secretary, assistant?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well, that’s a good thing right?”

She went to stand up but he shook his head. “Faith?”

“Why can’t anything be _easy_?” She lamented. 

“I’m not sure what this is about, but why don’t you tell me the person’s name.”

“Roger Wyndham-Pryce.”

“Okay? What kind of experience does he have?”

“Apparently he worked with the British Royal family at one time, although I’m not sure when that would’ve been.”

“Faith? What am I missing here?”

Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, she decided to rip the bandaid off. 

“I know of him.”

“How?”

“He was the Father of my former Watcher and is a Watcher himself.”

“What? I thought both your Watcher’s died.”

“They did. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce came to Sunnydale after Giles was suspended by the IWC, and Wesley was sent to work with me and Buffy. He wasn’t fully qualified, and it was a mess. There’s so much more to the story, Bruce—but the takeaway is that Wesley died three years ago.”

“How?”

“It was right before Angel took over Wolfram and Hart. The Senior Partners, who ran the organization, were corrupted by evil. Angel, Wesley, Illyria, Gunn and Spike all fought the legion of demons that the Senior Partners unleashed upon them. I went to Los Angeles to fight with them, and got there just in the nick of time. We defeated the horde, and the Powers that Be, punished the Senior Partners, took their dominion and gave to it Angel. That’s why he runs Wolfram and Hart now, globally.

“Was Wesley the only one who perished?”

“No, Gunn died too. Spike, he’s a vampire like Angel with a soul...he still works with Angel. Cordelia, she went to Sunnydale high school with Buffy, Willow and Xander? She died right before the battle. Angel and she, well?”

“They fell in love?”

“Yeah.”

“And Illyria?”

“She’s an Old One. Before the time of the Slayers, the Old Ones walked the earth. They were true demons—filled with power and nearly invincible. From what I understand, Illyria took over the body of a mortal, and somehow turned from her evil ways to fight alongside Angel. She’s in Los Angeles too. She’s a bit strange.”

“How did the Slayers come to be?”

“Shadow Men. They harnessed the power of the Shadow Demon and merged it with Sineya, the first Slayer. The Primeval One. She was strong enough to defeat the Old Ones with the Scythe as her weapon.”

“The weapon Buffy showed me?”

“Yep. It’s hers. I’ve wielded it in battle, in Sunnydale. She handed it to me when she was run through and thought she wouldn’t make it. When she managed to pull herself together, I gave it back to her.”

“So any Slayer can wield it?”

“Kind of. But it belongs to the Chosen One. That’s Buffy.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

She shrugged. “Yes and no, but really? It doesn’t take away from my powers. If I need to use it, I can. I prefer to fight with other stuff, but I can use anything really. Weapons are only as good as the person who wields them.”

“True enough.” He took a deep breath and then stood up, with an arm full of Slayer and headed into his room, and his shower. “Lets get you clean and fed. Then we can go out tonight and patrol.”

Her beaming grin split her face in two. “For the record? That suit is the best gift you could’ve ever given me, Krasivyy. _Thank you.”_

“You’re more than welcome, Gorgeous.”


	25. How Much?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith gets the full financials from Zurich, and Bruce realizes that he might just have serious competition for Faith’s attention.

Faith and Bruce had been out patrolling every night over the ensuing weeks and every day, she’d work with him on his hand to hand fighting skills, as well as show him how to use a stake, cross-bow and a sword more efficiently. 

She had been impressed with his training skills from his time with the League of Shadows. They had taught him to use his stealth well, and his use of his bat weapons for non-lethal means was also something that she’d found useful. The difference in their fighting styles was simply put, that Bruce used his techniques to subdue, and she used hers to kill. 

Their first night out on patrol, had found them taking out a small band of thugs in the Narrows, and a couple vamps just over the bridge leading back into Gotham proper. When they’d returned home, she found herself dealing with a very amorous Bruce, as they spent the rest of the night and early morning fucking each other silly. 

Hence a pattern was born. 

Every night they’d patrol, and every night they’d end up back at her place or his, eager to consummate the raging heat between them. 

It was like patrolling was turning into a fucked-up form of foreplay. 

Not that she minded at all. She was happier, being able to Slay and release all her pent up frustrations. Just the other night Bruce had watched in awe as she’d taken out a nest of a dozen vampires in under ten minutes. 

He had been particularly turned on that night, and had spent the early morning hours once they’d returned home, buried between her thighs as he brought her to completion—many, many times. 

Today was Wednesday, and the funeral for Commissioner Loeb was set for this morning at eleven. Gordon had called Batman to the precinct last night and had shared that the two cops who had rolled on the Joker and Maroni, were in protective custody within Gordon’s unit. Lau, had given all the pertinent banking information to Gordon, and had washed his hands of the mob, heading back to China with his sincerest apologies to Bruce and Lucius. She had even made a point of being there when Lau returned to Wayne Enterprises, to retrieve his team before he’d left the city for good. As part of his immunity deal, he wasn’t able to invest or return to Gotham for ten years. 

And it allowed Bruce to save face and not have to pursue a business relationship with the man. 

If Batman had put the idea into Gordon and Dent’s heads, well? 

So much the better. 

Buffy had put all the junior Slayers on alert. They were scoping out the parade routes, looking for any sign of the Joker or his lackeys. She’d figured that they would try and infiltrate the cops who were part of the parade procession. She’d mentioned it to Bruce last night, that if it was her...she’d try to position herself closely to where the stage was. There was to be a 21-gun salute at the end of the Mayor’s speech, and that was a perfect set up for disaster. 

Gordon, had been named the new Commissioner in a press conference the previous day. He was well liked by the press and the people, and it was seen as a smart political move. 

Bruce had been happy for the man. 

When his elevator door rang, Bruce glanced up to see Lucius walking out with his briefcase in hand. 

“Did we have an appointment today, Mr. Fox?”

“No, Mr. Wayne. I’m here to see Miss Lehane. I just received all the financials from Bank Suisse.”

“She’s in her apartment this morning. We had a late night.”

Lucius smirked, but didn’t comment as he asked simply, “Will you be joining us?”

“Probably should.” 

He stood and nodded to Alfred, before they headed down two flights and found themselves knocking on Faith’s door. 

Violet answered with a bright smile.

“Hey, Mr. Wayne!” 

“Hello, Violet...is Faith available?”

“In here!” Faith’s voice floated from elsewhere, and Vi ushered them in before grabbing the leashes for Baba and Yaga. 

“I’m heading down with the dogs, Mom!”

“Screw you, brat.” Faith shouted back. “Make sure they get to run a bit, since they’re gonna be cooped up for a while today.”

“Okay!”

Violet winked at him, and nodded politely to Lucius before she left. 

When he found Faith, she was talking on her phone and she glanced over and waved at them to take a seat.

“No, I get that Angel,” Faith said with a tinge of something he couldn’t define, “but you can’t tell me anymore than that?”

He could hear Angel speaking, but not what he was saying as Faith clenched her hand and then rubbed it down her side in a show of irritation. 

“I know. Yes, yes...I get it. No, I _promised_ , didn’t I?”

There was another pause and then Faith gritted out, “Tell Captain Peroxide to put a sock in it. He’s not amusing, and as much as he might like to think I won’t stake him...besides last time I checked, there’s not a cure for being a _pathological idiot!”_

Angel’s laughter was easy to make out, and he gave Lucius a side-eye and a shake of his head at Faith’s colorful euphemisms.

“I did receive that invitation, Angel. I’m not ready yet. No, I can’t say I’ll change my mind.”

Each response was given to a brief question, and he had to wonder just what they were discussing. 

“You’re still going to be heading this way on Sunday, right?”

Another pause, more words and then he saw Faith’s shoulders drop in relief. 

“Okay. Miss you too. Hit Spike for me.” A pause. “ _I heard that William!_ ”

A snort and then Faith hung up her phone with a sarcastic eye roll. 

“William?” He asked with a smirk. 

“Spike. His given name is William. During he and Angel’s tear across Europe, he was better known as William the Bloody.”

“Nice name. Is he also Captain Peroxide?”

“That’s Angel’s name for him, but I liked it so I took ownership of it.”

He patted the couch next to him, and Faith flounced over with a happy sigh as she cuddled into him and then grinned at Lucius. 

“You’re the _man_ , Lucius. I _love_ my new suit!”

The man in question bowed his head humbly, but Bruce could see he was pleased with the compliment. Lucius then set his briefcase down, and slid out a rather think portfolio before handing it to Faith. 

“Karl Stroessner sent this by messenger for you. It’s the final accounting of the Romanov fortune that was entrusted to Bank Suisse.”

Faith took a deep breath as her hands started to shake. He settled his larger hand over her’s and when their eyes made contact, he said softly, “It’s going to be _fine_. Whatever it says, you have resources to help you now. You’re not alone with this, okay?”

She nodded, rubbing her hand along the outside of the binder. 

“This seems rather thick.”

“It’s a full accounting of all the investments made over the last 100 years. Bank Suisse, was tasked to make certain investitures in relation to market trends, globalization and projections. Apparently, your Great-Great Grandfather Nicholas was quite the businessman and invested heavily in the stock markets of the times. Upon his death, all monies were transferred out of the stock exchanges and moved solely into commodities. That was where they remained for the most part, until the end of the Great Depression. After that, Bank Suisse purchased stocks in several companies.”

“Which ones are we talking about, Lucius?” He asked with interest. 

“Oil, gold, wheat, sugar and coffee were the commodities.”

He paled and he considered the ramifications of such an action. 

“Which one was the heaviest of the investments?”

“Gold and Sugar.”

“Shit.” He swallowed and then asked, “And the stock?”

“The largest investitures were in Transportation, Energy and the early technologies.”

“Such as?”

“IBM, Intel and HP.”

“Oh my God!”

I don’t understand,” Faith interrupted, clearly confused, “why does that matter?”

“Because, Gorgeous—commodities aren’t quite as volatile as the Security and Exchange commission. Stocks can give you a bigger return on an investment, but over the long haul, some commodities are usually more profitable as they show a continued steady rate of incline. But that’s not always the case, dependent upon the stock purchased price and how long you’ve had it.”

“Okay.”

“What was the initial investment?” 

“According to the data in that folder, the initial investment in 1917, was around one-hundred million dollars. In today’s market that would be about...”

He swallowed and paled heavily, “Fifty billion easily.”

Faith felt like she was playing ping-pong, as her head flitted between Bruce to Lucius, as they talked about shit she had no idea of. 

Staring morosely down at the binder, she asked for the sake of her own sanity, “Which page has the total amount?”

“The third from the last page.” Lucius replied, eyeing his employer and shaking his head in warning. Bruce nodded and watched Faith as she quickly found the page in question, her eyes widening in horror at the final dollar amount. 

“Is this in dollars?” She squeaked. 

“Yes, Karl converted it there,” Lucius pointed to the second column. “The other column is denoted in Euros.”

She gripped the paper tightly, trying to process how many zero’s there were on the fucking thing. Bruce glanced over her shoulder, and he couldn’t help the hiss that fell from his lips. 

“Am I reading this right, Bruce?” She whispered shakily. “This really says 200 billion?” 

“Yes.” He replied in awe, and then watched stunned as Faith dashed quickly from the room, startling both he and Lucius. 

He reacted immediately, chasing after her. 

He found her in her bathroom, vomiting into the toilet. 

“Shit!” He sputtered, instantly kneeling down and pulling Faith’s hair back—as she dry heaved into the porcelain basin for another few minutes. When she was completely spent, he helped her up and noted that her eyes were red with fresh tears. 

“Faith...”

“ _That’s too much!”_ She wailed. “How am I supposed to know what to do with 200 billion dollars!?”

He helped her to the sink and then flushed the toilet, watching her rinse her mouth and then brush her teeth thoroughly. 

“Sorry.” She said after a moment. 

“Gorgeous, don’t apologize. I get how utterly overwhelming this is. Wayne Enterprises net worth is probably a tenth of that. 200 billion is a lot of money.”

“I know I should feel grateful, but all I feel is sick to my stomach.”

He shook his head and lifted Faith up into his arms, before moving her into the bedroom and settling her in bed. 

“Why don’t you try and get some sleep.”

“But what about the funeral?”

“I can go alone. It’ll be fine. Buffy’s got it under control, and there’s nothing you can do anyway. You can’t go out in your cat suit, so it’s not like you can patrol.”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

Chuckling softly and kissing her forehead, he tucked her in and then sat down next to her, running his hand through her hair like he knew she enjoyed. 

“What do you want Lucius to do?”

“I honestly don’t know,” she admitted softly, “I don’t have to decide anytime soon, do I?”

“No, you have some time. Why don’t you think about it and we can discuss it again in a few days?”

“Sounds good.” She gripped his hand and then asked completely unguarded, “Will you at least stay until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.” 

He continued to run his hand through Faith’s hair, listening to her soft sighs of contentment until her breathing evened out and she finally succumbed to slumber. 

When he got back to the living room, Lucius handed him the folder and he went through each page—line item, by line item. Many times, he’d shake his head at some of the acquisitions, and wonder just how many people had been involved in amassing this kind of wealth over the past 100 years.

“It’s amazing before the collapse of the Stock Market in 1929, that the monies had been reinvested just a year prior? And then look here?” He pointed to another item on page 22. “This reallocation towards durable goods in the early fifties? How would someone have made that leap?”

“I know, Mr. Wayne. It was almost as if the investors at Bank Suisse were given a playbook in how exactly the money was to be invested over each decade. There were some losses of course, but clearly not much.”

He sat back and shook his head in wonder. “Do you realize that Faith is probably the single wealthiest woman on the planet right now? Is there anyway to keep these financials private?”

“Yes. But that would require her keeping the money overseas, in Zurich. It seems they’ve done a stellar job for her so far, but Karl is getting close to retiring and hasn’t even hinted at who his successor will be.”

“And who knows how they might deal with the political ramifications going forward?”

“There is that. Monaco has a fairly good structure and favorable tax laws. 

“That’s a thought,” He hummed thoughtfully, “but we have some time to think about this. Right now, we’ve got to get ready for the funeral.”

“What should we do with this?” Lucius lifted the portfolio with a shake. 

“I’ll take it for now and place it in the safe where I keep my suit. Faith can decide later what she wants to do with it.”

“Karl did inquire if she would need some money for living expenses. I wasn’t sure how to answer that.”

“I can ask her tonight. But perhaps to smooth things along, have him start the paperwork for an offshore account, perhaps through the Cayman’s. Once Faith agrees, she can set up a dummy account inside Gotham Security and Trust. I know the CEO quite well, and he’s nothing but discreet.”

“I’ll make the call, when I get back to Wayne Enterprises. What time will you be in?”

“The funeral starts in an hour. Give me an ten minutes to get a few things settled here and I’ll be there soon.”

“Very good, Sir.”

He watched Lucius go, and then sat back with the portfolio on his lap, staring out into Gotham. He had expected that Faith’s inheritance would be perhaps at most, half of what it had actually turned out to be. He could well imagine the amount of attention she’d get from several interested parties if word got out about how much money the Romanov fortune was really worth. 

Shaking his head, he stood up and scrawled out a quick note, letting Faith know he was taking the paperwork and would be putting it in his secret room. He had added her to the biosensor a few days ago, so she could take it if she wanted to find a better place for it. 

Walking carefully into Faith’s room, his expression softened as he noticed her sleeping. Her long eyelashes were fanned out, her lips were parted slightly and she was gripping onto her pillow tightly. There was a small furrow on her brow, as if she was dreaming about something worrisome, and that made his heart clench. He was about to set the note down and head up to his Penthouse, when he heard Faith’s phone ring out in the living room. 

Rushing back out, he closed her door and dashed for the phone about to silence it when he noted the caller. 

Growling softly, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to pick up the phone. 

“Hello, John.”

“Bruce?” Daggett’s voice was clearly confused. “ _Why_ are you picking up Faith’s phone?”

“Maybe because I’m in her apartment, and I just settled her down for a nap. Can I take a message?”

There was a deafening silence on the other end, and when Daggett finally did speak, he seemed irritated. 

“I just wanted to check in with her. We haven’t spoken in a few days.”

“I’ll pass it on that you called, but John? Just a friendly warning? Faith and I are officially together, and whilst I’m not normally a jealous sort, for her? I might make an exception.”

“I didn’t realize you’d felt threatened by my friendship with Faith, Wayne? From what I can tell, she’s rather a free spirit and I don’t imagine she’d take too kindly to you trying to control whom she can and can’t talk to.”

“I’m not doing anything of the kind, John. I trust Faith, and I only want to see people in her life who are there for the right reasons.”

“Oh? So you’re trying to tell me that her heritage didn’t play any factor in you suddenly deciding to hang up your playboy ways and became a serial monogamist?”

“None at all. Had the discovery gone the other way, I’d still be here by her side.”

“I find that hard to believe, Wayne.”

“Believe what you want, John—and I’ll be sending you a check for Faith’s dress. While she appreciated the gesture, I’m more than capable of buying my girlfriend _whatever_ she needs.”

“She didn’t exactly turn me down, Bruce.”

“No, because she didn’t want to be rude.”

“She doesn’t seem to mind talking with me, either.”

“Again, refer to the not being rude comment?” He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I’m happy to help you out with this fundraiser, John—but I’d rather you not use my generosity for your own personal gain. It’s a bit déclassé, don’t you agree?”

Daggett chuckled, and he could almost see the smug smirk on the pricks face. 

“I’ll make you a deal, Wayne?”

“Which is?”

“I’ll back off.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, per say. But when she walks away from you, just know that I’ll be there, waiting to pick up the pieces.”

“ _Not going to happen._ ”

“We’ll see, Wayne. I’ll see you at the service, and please let Faith know I called.”

He shook his head and hung up swiftly, not bothering to reply to that last taunt. 

_What a fucking jerk!_

When he turned around, it was to Violet smirking at him. 

“Nice call?” She chirped and he snorted as he set Faith’s phone down from where he’d grabbed it from. 

“Not really. John Daggett is...”

“Persistent?”

“I was going to say, ‘ _annoying_ ’ but I’m fairly certain both work just fine.”

Violet snickered. “He calls daily.”

“I’d assumed he probably was.”

“And you’re not jealous?”

He lifted his head up and considered the question carefully. 

He wasn’t sure jealousy was what he was feeling. 

“I trust Faith, so in this circumstance I find no need to be jealous. I know she doesn’t play games with people’s emotions and she’s not the kind of woman to give her trust easily. But John is good at poking holes and playing on people’s insecurities.”

“And Faith can tend to overthink things.”

“Yes. I’d meant what I said to you, Violet. I’m in this for the long haul. I know Faith and I, are going to have challenges, by virtue of whom we both are. She’s strong in so many ways, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be there for her when she needs me to be. This is very new territory for me.”

“Kinda scary?”

“Terrifying.” He admitted. “But not in a bad way, just different. I’ve spent so much of my life closing off parts of myself, that now that I’m trying to be more open? I’m finding myself flailing a bit.”

“I think Faith is too, for the record.”

“I left her a note by her bedside,” he offered as an aside, “and I’m heading to the funeral in a few. Will you be staying here?”

“Yeah. The rest of the girls are out scoping the parade route.”

At that moment his phone rang. 

“Wayne.”

“Bruce, it’s Buffy. We have a situation.”

“What’s going on?”

“Colleen and Shannon were doing a last minute sweep of a building just off the parade route and we found six police officers tied up. Their guns and uniforms taken.”

“Shit!” He sprinted out of Faith’s apartment and headed upstairs, dashing for his secret room—placing Faith’s documents inside all the while telling Buffy what to do. “If he’s going for the Mayor, he’s going to do it during or right after the speech. Surround the buildings on all sides of the stage where there’s a clear shot from the windows.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to change and head on out on my motorcycle. It’s better if I try and blend into the crowd. I’ll have Lucius there, and he’ll be on the podium representing the company. He can keep an eye out from his vantage point. ”

Buffy gave him the address where she was at, and it took him ten minutes to change and another five to head on out of his building, calling Lucius as he left. 

He just hoped they weren’t too late.


	26. Not Planned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith discovers something shocking.

When Faith woke up it was well after four o’clock and she hadn’t realized as she stared at the clock next to her bed, just how tired she was. She’d been feeling off for a few weeks, and normally this wouldn’t be too big of a concern but her emotional state was acting a bit like whiplash. 

There were moments she felt irritable, others weepy and this morning she’d gotten sick. 

Even parts of her body that never ached, felt tender. 

Shrugging it off, she went to relieve herself when she heard chatter coming from outside her bedroom. 

Thinking it was Violet watching the tube, she didn’t give it much thought, deciding a nice shower might be just the ticket. 

Twenty minutes later, refreshed and famished, she headed into her living room and was brought up short when she noticed that Violet wasn’t the only potential there. 

The room was filled with everyone but Buffy, Giles and Dawn. 

Even Willow was tapping away on her laptop. 

“What? Was there a meeting I missed?”

Everyone’s eyes shot up, and some of the girls looked stricken, while Rona and Vi were watching her with matching sad expressions on their faces. 

“What happened?” She asked again, this time her voice was on edge. “Did _something_ happen to Bruce?”

Her dark brown eyes scanned the room, and she could feel her breath catching as her adrenaline started to spike. 

“Bruce is fine, Faith.” Willow offered with a soft half-smile, “Well...mostly.”

“That’s not cryptic, Red.” She bit out, going into the kitchen to grab something to drink. She glanced down at her packet of cigarettes and went to pull one out, when something stopped her. 

Brow furrowed, she went to sniff at the packet, usually loving the smell of the earthy tobacco—when her stomach rolled and then she was running back for the bathroom, heaving into the toilet. 

Violet and Rona were after her like a flash, Vi holding her hair back while Rona stood there in the doorway with a worried expression on her face. 

“You’re sick?” Rona blurted. “You _never_ get sick, Faith.”

“Tell me about it!” She groaned unhappily, heaving in misery again. 

“Did you eat something bad?” Vi asked, grabbing a wash cloth and handing it to Rona, who ran it under cold water and then gave it back so Vi could clean up her friend. 

“Dunno,” She choked on a sob, “I was sick this morning too, so maybe?”

Rona hummed, before she left and then a few moments later Willow was back with her, the witch kneeling down and checking her forehead. 

“You’re not warm,” Willow clarified, “but you feel a bit clammy. How long have you felt this way?”

“Today. But to be honest I haven’t been feeling myself lately.”

“Understandable.” Willow replied. “Faith? You’ve been taking your birth control, right?”

“Of course, Red! Why?”

Willow stood up and opened Faith’s cabinet and reached for the birth control packet. She fiddled with the packaging for a moment before she left the room. 

“What was that all about?” Vi wondered, and Rona shrugged her shoulders, while she stood up shakily and brushed her teeth again. 

“It’s probably nothing.” She replied unconvincingly, but her heart was racing at the unwelcome thoughts that kept popping into her head. She then glanced over at Violet and demanded, “Go to the drug store on the corner. Buy a handful of different pregnancy tests.”

Vi and Rona both gasped simultaneously, before Rona bit out, “Are you _shitting me?_ How in the fuck could you be pregnant if you’ve been taking your meds?”

At that moment Willow walked back into the bathroom with the birth control packet in her hands. 

“Faith? Has your doctor tried to contact you recently?”

She thought about it and then nodded. 

“Yeah, she’s called a few times this past week? But I’ve been so busy, I haven’t returned her calls, why?”

“I think you need to call her.”

Finding her phone in her living room, she called her doctor in Cleveland. 

Dr. Brooks picked up on the second ring. 

“Miss Lehane,” the voice of her doctor was clearly relieved that she’d finally called, “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

“Hey Doc, what’s going on?”

“Faith, there’s not an easy way to say this, but there’s been a recall on the birth control pills I prescribed you. Apparently, there were several batches in the lot you were prescribed six months ago that only had placebos. The issue has been dealt with, and I can have a new order sent out to you immediately.”

She paled in dismay, plopping down on the edge of her bed. 

“How did this happen? I’ve been having my period like normal.”

“No one knows for certain, but the pharmaceutical company is looking into it. It may have been a simple manufacturing error,” Dr. Brooks paused, “are you sure your cycle has been normal?”

“Yes, but you know me? I never have it more than a couple days a month.”

“Faith, I have to ask? I’ve read the papers and know you’ve been seeing Bruce Wayne. Have you been sexually active?”

“Yes.”

There was a deep breath on the other end of the line. 

“Faith, if you _are_ pregnant, it’s likely very early. Take a home pregnancy test for now. Actually, I would take several just in case.”

“Is there a chance it could come back negative, even if I am?”

“There’s always that chance, but it’s unlikely. I will tell you this. If even one of the tests comes back positive, then until we can do an actual blood test, assume that you are.”

“Got it.”

“Call me once the testing is done.”

“How in the world am I going to keep this confidential, if I have to go to a clinic to get the blood work done?”

“We can discuss those options once you’ve verified a potential positive result.”

“Fine, I’ll call you back in an hour.”

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

“Okay.”

She shut her phone and hunched over with her head in her hands. She stayed like that for a few moments before she mumbled out, “Go get the stuff, Vi.”

“We’re on it.”

She heard Vi and Rona leave the room, and then felt the mattress of her bed dip next to her. When she peeked out to the side, Willow was watching her with concern. 

“What are you going to do if it turns out you are?”

She snorted out a laugh, but it wasn’t a happy one. 

“Bruce...we actually discussed this not too long ago when we’d decided to become official. He doesn’t want kids, and frankly I’m not sure I do either.”

“Are you going to at least tell him?”

She shook her head in the negative. “Not until I have all the facts.” 

Willow didn’t respond, but it was clear from her expression she wasn’t sure she agreed with that choice. 

“Why are you all here?”

“Because there was a shooting at the parade.”

“The Mayor?”

“No, he’s fine. Gordon was shot in the arm, but he’s doing fine.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Buffy found a group of cops tied up in a building off the parade route. Bruce showed up and they scouted the buildings near the stage, but no one expected that the Joker would be actually part of the parade. He and a few of his lackeys opened fire, and a few people were injured. No one was killed thankfully, but there’s mass hysteria right now.”

“Sounds like he gets off on creating chaos.”

“Yeah, but there was something else.”

“What?”

He left another calling card this time.”

“Oh? Dent again?”

“No.”

“Who?”

“You.”

“What the fuck!” She stood up and swayed slightly, breathing through her nose and trying to get her bearings. “Is that why you’re all here?”

“Yes. Bruce is having the card analyzed, and Buffy is checking into some underground contacts for information.”

“This bites.” She groaned unhappily. 

Willow nodded, but didn’t reply. She just stood and walked out to the kitchen and came back with several bottles of water. 

“Drink up. If you’re going to take a bunch of pregnancy tests, you’re going to need to pee.”

“Joy.”

She did as instructed and it was about thirty minutes later Vi and Rona came back with a brown paper bag. Rona thrust it into her hand and pointed to the bathroom. The rest of the Slayer wannabe’s (as Faith affectionately called them), appeared perplexed, but she just took the bag and disappeared. 

Fifteen minutes later she was sitting on her bathroom floor surrounded by six home pregnancy tests while Violet was knocking frantically on the bathroom door, calling out her name in concern. 

Fuck!

Positive...

_They were all fucking positive!_

How was she ever going to tell Bruce?

Fuck! 

Would he think she did this on purpose?

Opening the door to the bathroom, she had no idea that tears were streaming down her face. Violet took one look at her sister Slayer and enveloped her into a tight hug, shooting a warning look over Faith’s shoulder at Rona, who was staring at the bathroom floor with a resigned expression on her face. 

“What now?” She whispered, and Faith sniffed, taking a shaky step back. 

“I need to call my doctor. Keep this locked down, understand? No one and I mean, _no one._..is to know about this. Not even Buffy or Giles.”

Willow stared at her from the edge of her bed, a contemplative look on her face.

“You can’t keep this a secret forever, Faith.”

She didn’t answer as she grabbed the positive test results and dumped them back into the large paper bag—shoving them under her sink for now. 

There was still hopefully—a chance this was all one huge mistake. 

She took her phone and walked towards her window, dialing her doctor who as promised, picked up immediately.

“Hello, Faith.”

“I took six.”

“And?”

“All positive.”

There was a deep silence and when Dr. Brooks spoke, her voice was gentle and calm. 

“There are options.”

“I know, but wouldn’t it be better to know for sure?”

“Yes, a blood test would be best. If you could get here, I could do it discreetly.”

“I can’t leave Gotham right now.”

“Let me check with a colleague there at Gotham General. She owes me a favor. I’ll call you back within the hour.”

“Okay. Thanks Doc.”

“Of course. Talk to you soon.”


	27. Imploding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce finds out about Faith’s secret and it doesn’t go well.

Faith’s doctor had indeed, called back and had managed to secure a private visit with a Dr. Eleanor Parks, a friend from Medical School. Dr. Parks had shown up Thursday morning after Bruce had left for Wayne Enterprises, taken the blood sample and promised she’d have the results by the next day. 

The morning sickness had made a reappearance Thursday before lunch, and she was retching over the toilet when her phone rang. 

Glancing down at it, she groaned and sat back on her ass, wiping her mouth with a towel before answering. 

“Hello, John.”

“Hello, Faith.” She could hear the relief in the man’s voice. He had called every day like clockwork, but she hadn’t spoken with him since before Lucius had made his visit. But obviously he wasn’t the kind of man to be deterred. 

She wasn’t sure if she found his persistence annoying or not.

“How are you today?”

“Under the weather.”

“Oh?” Worry tinged John’s voice. “Will you be well enough for the fundraiser, Saturday?”

“I’m hoping. Bruce has been busy with work and Alfred has been handling most of the tasks like food, booze...that kind of thing. Hasn’t really left much for me to do, which no offense, I’m happy about.”

John chuckled. “You really don’t like being social, do you?”

“Not much,” She stood up shakily, a wave of dizziness overwhelming her—she had to catch her self on the edge of the sink, “Shit!”

“Faith? What’s the matter?”

“I’m feeling light-headed. I think I need to...”

Whatever it was she was about to say—never finished as she collapsed in a heap, grazing her head on the counter. 

Her phone crashed on the floor and Daggett was yelling out her name in panic.

Vi, who had heard the noise, came running in, screaming for Rona and Willow—who had volunteered to keep an eye on Faith—as she lay bleeding out on the bathroom floor. 

“What _happened_?” Willow cried. 

“I don’t know!” Violet replied, “She hit her head, and she’s bleeding!”

“Do we call an ambulance?” Rona asked.

“No! We _can’t_!” Violet pleaded. “If she goes to a hospital, the press will find out. If she’s really pregnant, there’s no telling what the fall-out is going to be!”

John Daggett was listening in, as he was fairly certain that whomever was speaking in the room where Faith was at, had no idea her phone call was still connected. 

“Do we call Bruce?” A female voice spoke up, and Daggett figured it was the same voice who had asked what had happened from before. 

“What do we tell him, exactly—Willow? Faith doesn’t even know for sure she’s pregnant, and she wanted to make sure before she said anything. She’s convinced he’s going to be furious.”

“It’s not her fault the pharmacy screwed up her meds, Vi,” another voice scoffed, “I don’t see how Wayne can blame Faith for something that wasn’t her fault to begin with?”

“You want to tell Faith that, Rona? You know how she blames herself for everything bad that happens!”

John wondered just who this Vi, Rona and Willow were, but he was more concerned with the facts at hand. 

Faith might be pregnant? 

With Wayne’s kid?

And she didn’t know how he’d take it?

_This was just too, too good._

He hung up the phone and sat back, thinking about the best way to handle this gift of information. If he went and confronted Wayne, Faith would never forgive him, but if he played his cards right, he could be the sympathetic ear, or the shoulder to cry on when Wayne did the inevitable...

Because whomever this Vi was...she was right about one thing...Bruce Wayne likely wouldn’t handle the truth well, when the time came. 

Back in Faith’s apartment, Willow, Rona and Violet managed to get Faith to her bed and checked her head, noticing there was a small bump and a bit of blood. Willow grabbed the first aid kit, while Violet went and got a towel. 

It was about twenty minutes before Faith came to on her own. 

“Ow!” She griped, gently touching the side of her head. “Did I pass out?”

“Yes. We heard a ‘ _thud'_ and came in to investigate. You were passed out on the floor.”

“Crap!” She hissed, her head throbbing viciously, “Just my luck too.”

“Faith,” Willow began earnestly, “I think you need to tell Bruce. Even if it comes back that you’re not pregnant, he needs to be here to support you.”

“He’s going to lose his shit.” She sighed miserably.

“Not if you tell him the truth.” 

“Tell _who_ the truth?” A deep voice drawled from the open doorway, and Faith’s head whipped up to see Bruce standing there looking sinfully handsome in his dark blue Armani suit. Bruce’s gaze immediately narrowed, when he noticed the blood on the towel. 

“What happened?” He moved into the room and sat down at her side, his expression fierce. 

“I had a little accident.”

Bruce’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “You don’t have accidents.”

“Shit.” She whispered out in despair, and when she glanced up, she noticed her friends were no longer there. “Nice.”

Bruce gazed over his shoulder, noting that Faith’s bedroom door was now closed and there was no sign of Vi, Rona or Willow. When he turned back to Faith, she was biting her lower lip and he also noticed her hands were clenched in her lap and her body seemed to be shaking.

“Faith? What is going on?”

“Why are you here?” She asked, valiantly trying to change the subject. 

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but these past couple days have been hectic and you didn’t go out with me last night patrolling. I know you’ve been up and down these past weeks, but everything is going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that, Wayne.”

Bruce blanched at her tone of voice, but he reached out and cupped her head carefully—until he felt the bump and she hissed again. 

“You took a bad fall? Were you sparring?”

“No, I was in the bathroom and got dizzy. The next thing I knew, I’d come to and was in my bed.”

“Has that ever happened before? Are you eating?”

“No and yes.”

“Then what is it?”

Shaking her head, her gaze fell to the open doorway of her bathroom and she sighed in resignation. 

“If I tell you, you’ll need to give me your word you’re not going to go off half-cocked without giving me a chance to explain, _alright_?”

Bruce stared at his Slayer, and could see and feel the tension radiating from her. Whatever the issue was, she was greatly distressed not only by it, but his reaction to it. He took her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles tenderly before he nodded once. 

“I promise.”

“In the bathroom, under the sink there’s a brown paper bag. If you could go get it, it might help explain.”

Standing up in confusion, he made his way into the bathroom and noticed Faith’s phone on the floor. Picking it up, he pocketed it before finding the item in question. He held it up and asked, “This bag?”

He watched Faith nod, so he brought it over and placed it into her outstretched hand. 

When he sat back down, he couldn’t help but notice Faith fiddling with the bag and he frowned. 

“What’s in there?”

She didn’t respond at first, but when she did her voice was strained. 

“I’ve been feeling off for the past couple weeks. Nausea, vomiting and now dizziness. Yesterday, the vomiting was pretty bad and at first I thought it might’ve been food poisoning.”

“Okay, what was it?”

“ _Not that_. At least I’m pretty sure I know what’s causing it.”

She handed the bag to him and whispered for him to open it. 

Which he did. 

His eyes widened at first in shock, then disbelief when he pulled out the first stick from the bag. 

He wasn’t an idiot, he _knew_ what it was. 

He glanced in confusion at the test result. 

_Positive_...

He grabbed the second test, which had the same result...

Each test he pulled out said exactly the same thing, and when his gaze lifted to Faith’s...he could see real fear there. 

And it brought him up short. 

“When did you take these?”

“Yesterday.”

He didn’t speak for a few moments as he desperately tried to get his bearings. They had just discussed this not even a few weeks ago, and now Faith was pregnant? 

The first gut reaction had him wondering if she’d known back then?

...had she _planned_ this?

Was she trying to trap him?

He didn’t realize his expression was giving away his emotions, but she could see the range of feelings flying across his face. 

There was surprise...

Disbelief...

Distrust...

Anger...

Fear...

And finally when his hazel eyes met hers, there was _accusation_...

It was exactly as she’d feared it would be. 

He thought she’d done this on purpose. 

“You think I got pregnant on purpose, _don’t you?"_

He didn’t reply immediately, as he couldn’t undo the fact that his mind was racing with so many thoughts, it was hard to process them all. 

“My doctor in Cleveland has been trying to get ahold of me for nearly a week. I didn’t call her back until yesterday because I’ve been busy with everything. When I got sick yesterday, Willow took my birth control and checked. Apparently it’s on the web...a recall of my pills. All placebos. They don’t know why or how but turns out the joke is on me.” She choked on a sob, and refused to make eye contact. “The fact that you would even think I’d do something so underhanded _hurts_ , Wayne. I can see it in your eyes, even if you don’t have the stones to say it to my face.”

“Faith...” He felt his throat closing off at how utterly defeated she looked in that moment. “Are you sure you’re pregnant?”

“Probably. My doctor had a friend of hers come here this morning to take my blood and do a test secretly. Should be back in a day or two.” She paused and then finished coldly, “I think you should _go_. I’ll let you know what the test results say, and then let you know if I decide to keep it.”

“Faith...” He bit out with more way force than she’d ever heard from him, “this is a shock, but you need to give me time to process it.”

Deep brown eyes turned to him and she replied with no emotion, “Take all the time you want, but the choice isn’t up to you.”

“You’re not going to give me a voice in this?”

She snorted, “I’m sparing you the choice. _You’re welcome.”_

“ **I wasn’t thanking you!”** He snarled. “ _You need to stop doing that!"_

“Doing what?”

“Thinking the worst of me!” He bellowed. “How should I have taken this, really? We’ve just started seeing each other, and we’d both agreed that children were not part of that plan. At least not in any real sense. Now I find out that plan is obliterated! That you’re likely pregnant, and I’m going to be a Father! So tell me? Did you expect me to be _happy_ about it?”

She paled in horror, while he winced, as he realized belatedly that what he’d said wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted it to come out. 

“No. I don’t expect _anything_ from you, Wayne and I really think you need to leave now and take some time to decide what you want.”

“What about you?” He demanded, “Do you want this child?”

 **“I don’t know!”** She cried in fury. “I don’t know what to do, you fucking _asshole!_ I didn’t ask for this either, but guess what? I’m the one potentially carrying this...” she waved at her stomach not wanting to say the actual word, “I knew you’d be disappointed, and maybe scared and confused—but I hadn’t wanted to think that you’d place the blame solely on me! Last time I checked, it takes two people fucking to create a...”

“ _Baby! Say the word!"_

“Just go!” She sneered, waving her hand at him. “I can’t look at you right now.”

“This conversation isn’t over, for the record.”

“Sounds pretty done to me.” She replied waspishly. 

“Don’t do that, Faith. Don’t assume the worst.”

“You’ve got your facts screwy, Wayne. I didn’t. _You did.”_

“You’re assuming that’s what I was thinking!”

“Then deny it! Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll apologize.”

Her eyes met his in challenge, and he just stared back at her, knowing he could fabricate the truth and perhaps avoid the fall-out, but he wouldn’t lie to her. 

“I promised you I would never lie to you, and I won’t. Yes, the thought was there but it was a fleeting thought. Under the circumstances, if the roles were reversed...wouldn’t you have processed that possibility, no matter how quickly or unlikely it was?”

She huffed, glaring at Bruce heatedly—but she couldn’t deny it as she likely would’ve made that leap...at least initially. 

“I didn’t do this on purpose.” She whispered out pained, and he could see and feel the raw emotion wavering in her voice. “I debated on whether to even say anything at all.”

He instantly reached out and cupped her cheek, forcing her to make direct eye contact with him. 

“Were you debating on aborting our baby without telling me, or leaving me and never telling me that you were carrying our child?”

“ _Both_.”

**Fuck!**

“Damn it, Faith! You don’t get to decide this alone! This involves both of us!”

“And what happens if you decide you don’t want the kid, and I do? Or vice versa?”

He sighed and rubbed both hands down his face. 

“I don’t know. I suppose we take this one day at a time until we figure it out together. You’re right, in that the decision is ultimately up to you.”

“I just don’t want you resenting me. I can’t live my life seeing that emotion anymore in those...”

“Those what?”

She shook her head and cleared her throat. “Look,” she said finally, “you’re right in that what we have is new. Neither one of us ever saw a child as part of any package deal. But I’ll admit, that when you told me the other night that you never wanted to be a Father, a huge part of me felt relieved.”

“And the other part?”

“Felt slightly disappointed. I couldn’t tell you why though, and I’m not telling you this now to force your hand.”

“I get that. I wouldn’t expect you to not feel conflicted.”

She glanced out the window and noticed it had started to rain. 

“I’m tired, and I’m done talking. I’m going to go back to sleep.”

“Okay.” His voice was neutral, but she could hear a tinge of something she couldn’t quite define. 

As she settled herself under her covers, she watched as Bruce stood up. He gazed down at her but didn’t make any move to comfort her, nor show her any affection. He just nodded and left the room, leaving her feeling that her heart was ripping itself in two. 

“ _Why do I always end up trusting the wrong people?”_ She whispered heartbreakingly into the ether, not expecting a response and knowing one wouldn’t be forthcoming. 

Clutching her stomach, she did something she hadn’t done since the day she’d begged Angel to kill her. 

She cried herself to sleep. 


	28. John Daggett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith receives a counter-offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never really liked the casting of John Daggett in TDKR, so for this story I’m making him younger. I have a specific image in mind of whom I would have portraying him as...but that’s just me.

For the next 48 hours, Faith refused to talk or eat. She had gotten the test results from the doctor that morning, and had locked herself into her room and cried for hours. 

Thankfully she’d kicked everyone out of her apartment before she’d had her mental breakdown. 

Alfred had come down twice to bring her food, but both times she’d just ignored him, and then placed it into her fridge after he’d left. 

She didn’t touch it at all. 

Bruce hadn’t come back either. 

She didn’t ask what was going on, and frankly for once—she didn’t care. 

Angel has called her and left two messages, but she’d even refused to speak with him. 

Her voice mail was full, so she’d turned off her phone last night. 

Saturday nearing six in the evening, there was a soft knock on her front door. 

Whomever it was must’ve not gotten the memo, as they persistently knocked for ten minutes until she finally answered the door. 

Her expression fell when she noted who was standing there. 

It _wasn’t_ Bruce. 

“Hello, John. What can I do for you?”

John Daggett was a smart man and the second richest man in Gotham, behind its Prince. Bruce Wayne had always been Gotham City’s shining star. He’d always had the most beautiful women on his arm, and the night he’d seen Faith Lehane at the museum, he had vowed he’d leave with her by the end of the night. 

And then Wayne had announced that his date had arrived, and he’d seethed in jealousy. 

But if there was one thing that was a constant, it was Wayne wasn’t the type to ever appreciate his good fortune, nor what he had. 

The fact that Faith Lehane had turned out to be the Romanov Heiress had left him reeling, but he’d known that regardless of her heritage, he’d wanted her even before that revelation had become public knowledge. 

Now here she was, looking like she’d been crying for days, and a part of him wanted to march upstairs and clock Wayne good and proper for being such an utter fool. 

“Hi. I’m sorry to drop by unannounced, but you haven’t been returning your voice messages.”

“Nope, really not in the mood to talk to anyone.”

He nodded and then pulled out a single red rose from behind his back, and watched Faith’s lips quirk up into an amused smirk. 

“That’s more like it,” he drawled, “are you planning on joining us tonight?”

“No, I don’t think I’d be very welcome.”

“Why do you say that?”

Faith gave him a quizzical look. “Don’t play games with me, John. I noticed that our phone call disconnected quite a bit after I’d taken my nose dive onto the bathroom floor. How much did you overhear?”

_Damn!  
_

_Wayne was a total fuck up for letting this woman flounder..._

“All of it?” He admitted sheepishly.

“Come on in.” She waved him inside. 

“So, he didn’t handle it well, I take it?”

“Nope. But then something tells me you knew he wouldn’t.”

Faith led him over to her couch and he took the seat adjacent to her, watching as she cuddled under a thick blanket, her eyes tired and emotionless.

“He’s fairly predictable.”

Faith huffed out a small laugh, and he grinned before his expression turned contemplative. 

“You shouldn’t be hiding out here, Faith. You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. If anything, you should stick it in Wayne’s face tonight.”

“What? Show up on your arm?”

“That would work for me, but that wouldn’t be a good look for you. Most of Gotham Society knows you and Wayne are seeing each other. They’re going to expect you to be there tonight, and if you don’t show, it will get the gossips tongues wagging. I’ll be there, and I promise to stay close if you need me. Something tells me you could use a good friend right about now?”

“You want to be more than my friend, John.”

“Guilty as charged, however, I have enough restraint and respect for you, not to push you.”

“Even if I’m pregnant with another man’s child?”

“Even if. Wayne’s loss is my gain.”

“Wouldn’t you resent it?”

“What? That the child wouldn’t be biologically mine?”

She nodded. 

“No. I can’t have children, Faith.”

“What?!”

“It’s true. I was in the military when I was younger. Accident. Left me sterile.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Things happen for a reason, and I’ve never even wanted to consider the possibility before.”

“Then why offer?”

“I’d never considered it before, until I saw you that night at the museum.”

“Oh?”

He smiled at Faith’s sweet blush, and then reluctantly checked his watch. 

“This thing starts at seven. If you’re not there by eight, I’ll assume you’re not coming, fair enough?”

“Fair enough.”

He stood up and then leant over, placing a tender kiss on the top of her head that made Faith’s breath hitch. He didn’t say anything though, he just left without another word. 

Men were such a cluster mind fuck. 

She got up and wandered into her room, opening her closet and staring at the gown that John had gotten for her. Bruce had mentioned that he’d reimbursed John for it, but Bruce hadn’t made any overtures this past week to make sure she had clothes, or much of anything else other than her cat suit for patrolling. He’d been so consumed with the Joker, and everything else...it was almost as if he’d forgotten his words about taking care of her. 

Giving her what she’d deserved...

Taking a fortifying breath, she took out the dress and nodded to herself. 

If nothing else, John Daggett _deserved_ to at least see what his thoughtfulness had wrought. 

As she stood in front of her mirror almost an hour and a fifteen minutes later, looking at her reflection—she felt confident that she looked every bit the Romanov Heiress she was born to be. 

The clock showed the time at 7:53pm. 

Sliding a silver knife into her garter holster on her right thigh, she smirked. 

“Let the games begin.” She said firmly, and headed for the elevator. 


	29. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker crashes Harvey’s fundraiser and all hell breaks loose!

Bruce had been roving around the room for just under an hour as he greeted his guests and successfully parried questions about Faith, and if she would be joining the festivities that evening. Alfred had expressed his concern for Faith that morning, when he’d gone down to bring her breakfast and found her staring out her window, not acknowledging his presence. 

His butler had also mentioned that all of Faith’s fellow Slayers as well as her dogs, were gone. 

It seemed as if she’d sent them all packing and wanted to be left alone. 

That had been _very_ concerning. 

He had sent her texts, and called once—as he hadn’t wanted to just show up unannounced. He wasn’t sure if Faith wanted to talk to him, and he had been waiting for her to let him know if the blood tests had indeed, verified she was pregnant. The fact she hadn’t checked in yet, made him wonder if she hadn’t gotten the results back. 

Harvey and Rachel had shown up about thirty minutes ago, and he’d wanted to wait until eight to see if Faith showed before he gave his little pre-planned speech. The room was filled with every Gotham socialite and some people he knew from New York and Boston. Glancing discreetly around the room, as he finished talking to Senator Thompson—he noticed John Daggett looking his way, and the man raised his champagne flute in a mock salute. 

“Bruce?”

Turning around, he nodded in greeting to Rachel—who was firmly attached to Harvey’s side. 

“Rachel.” He held out his hand for the DA. “Dent, it’s good to see you.”

“You too. I wanted to thank you for hosting this last minute. John Daggett said you saved the day.”

“He’s exaggerating, but I was happy to do it regardless.”

Harvey glanced around. “I don’t see Miss Lehane here tonight.”

He stiffened, but Rachel—who knew her best friend better than anyone, caught it. However, before he could answer, the elevator door dinged, announcing a late arrival. 

The crowd hushed for about twenty seconds before he caught sight of Faith walking proudly out of the elevator, and his breath hitched at how achingly beautiful she looked. 

The dress was the one Faith had picked out that he’d reimbursed John for. It was chocolate chiffon and had a halter top that contained an intricate lace overlay around the neck. The bodice was formed fitting and hugged her breasts enticingly. The posterior of the dress came across her back just below her shoulder blades, and the long, flowing skirt fell to the floor. There was a daring slit up the left side that went to her upper mid thigh and the shoes she’d chosen were a pair of silver strapped stilettos. 

But the dress was secondary to the rest of her. 

Her normally flowing dark locks were swept up in an intricate up do, that settled just off her neck. Her makeup was dark, dramatic and accentuated her normally bright features into something hard and starkly defined. 

_She looked like perfectly etched marble._

His perusal had taken all of thirty seconds, but it was long enough for several eyes to turn to him questioningly.

Faith’s gaze caught his own and her expression didn’t change at all. 

_She looked cold and indifferent._

And he felt his stomach clench. 

Walking over briskly, he smiled softly and felt a momentary grip of panic when she didn’t return his smile at all. 

“Hello, Gorgeous.”

“Wayne.”

Her response was only for his ears, but it was borderline dismissive. 

“I wasn’t sure you were coming.”

“I’m here now.” Was all she said, as she politely took the proffered arm and allowed him to escort her into the room. All eyes were on them, and he could feel Faith’s tension even if her face was entirely passive and resembled something akin to bored affectation.

For the next forty minutes after his speech, she allowed him to introduce her to various people. She was cordial, her lips never lifting much beyond a polite smirk as she schmoozed and pretended to care about what people were talking to her about. It wasn’t until they got to Daggett, that he felt her demeanor change, softening noticeably. 

“John, it’s _lovely_ to see you again.” Faith purred, and John smirked and bowed humbly. 

“Well, it’s only been what? A couple hours? Truth be told, I wasn’t sure you were going to show.”

“I felt a good deed deserved one in return.”

“Oh?”

“Of course. After all, I’m not sure I would’ve had the time or energy to find something to wear tonight had you not sent Annette my way. I probably should call her soon.”

“I’m sure she’s understanding of the fact that you have a lot on your plate right now.”

“That’s an _understatement_.” She deadpanned and felt Bruce’s hand grip hers a bit more firmly. A waiter came by with a tray of champagne and she sighed, causing John to chuckle. He then held out a glass of sparkling water for her. 

“Here. Non-alcoholic, _right_?”

She could feel Bruce’s eyes on her, boring a hole into her face but she just smiled and nodded. 

“Thanks. I’m a bit thirsty. I’m _starved too,_ haven’t eaten anything in a few days.”

Bruce’s sharp intake of breath had her feeling quite pleased, unleashing her vindictive side to come out and play. 

“What can I get for you?” John asked. 

“Thanks, John—but I’ll take Faith over to the Buffett table, as I’m sure there will be something to her liking.”

“Buffett it is. Thanks for the drink, John.”

“ _Anytime_.” He winked and bowed, causing her smile to widen in appreciation. 

Once Bruce led her away from Daggett, he growled deeply into her ear, “What was that all about? You _told_ him?”

She side-eyed him, and scoffed. “You might want to _shut up for the rest of the night, Wayne_. Before you stick your foot in your mouth, and say something stupid again.”

“Faith...”

“Yes?”

“Are you playing games right now?”

“Would you _care_ if I did? I haven’t heard from you in two days. I tell you I’m pregnant, and you _bail_.”

“I texted and called today. I just wanted to give you some space, but you must’ve turned your phone off.”

“So? You live two floors up? You couldn’t have...oh geez, I don’t know? Come down and checked up on me?”

He swallowed heavily, hearing the clear hurt and betrayal in Faith’s voice, and he had to admit that maybe staying away and giving her time hadn’t been his best idea. 

“I’m sorry. I’d thought you’d want your space.”

“No, _you_ wanted the space. That’s fine.” She turned and smiled up at him brightly, but he could see it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m _done_ talking about this tonight. This is a fundraiser, and if I have to _fake_ act like I care to be here with all these fakes and phonies, _present company included—_ I think I should get something to eat before I collapse again. Oh, just for your info, the blood test came back positive...” there was the briefest of pauses as her eyes narrowed viciously, and then she bit out spitefully, “ _ **You’re welcome!”**_

The last two words held so much venom that he just watched stunned, as Faith sauntered away from him and went over to the Buffett, perusing the items with a scrunched nose. The Mayor’s wife sidled up to her and pointed out a few items and Faith smiled and nodded politely, taking a couple small offerings before moving away and nibbling on them. 

He was so engrossed in watching her, he didn’t feel anyone approaching, until he heard a low chuckle next to him. 

“You really are a _piece of work,_ Wayne.”

He sighed, glancing over—considering the man next to him. 

“And why is that, John?”

“You have a _beautiful_ woman, whom by all accounts, was crazy about you—and yet you treated her as disposable. Why is that, do you suppose?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice deepened slightly. 

John moved closer and hissed into his ear, “ _I know she’s pregnant!_ She was on the phone with me when she collapsed and hit her head. She could’ve had a serious concussion, but was too afraid to go to the hospital because she was worried about how you’d react.”

He could feel his panic and anger rising, and his cheeks tinged pink with his heightened emotions. 

“Did you even ask her how she’s been feeling? Or even notice how terrified she is?”

“You’re crossing the line, John.” 

“I don’t think so. I told you I’d be waiting on the sidelines, and you’re making it so easy for me, Wayne. Just know, when she walks away from you, I’ll have no problem raising your kid as my own.”

He turned around in a flash and felt his body instantly coiling in fight mode, but Alfred caught his eye and the look of concerned confusion on the older man’s face, had him backpedaling reluctantly. 

“You listen _closely_ , John—as I won’t tell you this again. Faith is with me. _She’s mine._ We have some stuff to work out, but there’s no way in hell you’ll be raising _my child,_ do you understand me?”

“We‘ll see.” 

He scowled as Daggett left, and when he glanced back around—Faith was no where to be seen. 

He felt his heart race in worry, walking towards where he’d last seen her at. 

As he moved into the hallway, he noticed Harvey and Rachel talking. 

“So? I’ve been waiting for an answer?”

Rachel sighed, and then said reluctantly, “I don’t have an answer.”

“Just tell me this isn’t about Wayne.”

His face fell in shock, concluding in that moment that Harvey had asked Rachel to marry him, and she hadn’t given him an answer. Her eyes caught his, and then in the distance the elevator door dinged and a gunshot went off. 

“We made it!” A cheery voice echoed down the hall. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen! We are tonight’s entertainment!”

The sounds of glass breaking, made Rachel flinch.

“I have only one question!” The voice hissed, “Where is Harvey Dent?”

Rachel’s face then registered her panic, while Bruce went into instant Batman mode. 

“We need to...”

Whatever Harvey was about to say, was immediately cut off when Bruce placed him into a choke hold, knocking him out instantly. 

“What are you _doing_!?” Rachel cried. 

“They’ve come for him.” He growled out in his Batman voice, putting an unconscious Harvey into a storage closet and locking it closed. “Stay hidden.” 

His heart was racing, as he didn’t know where Faith was, but he did know he needed to get his Batman gear on pronto—so he headed directly for his room. 

“Do you know where Harvey is? Do you know who he is?” The voice continued to echo down the hall and Rachel could hear people’s cries of fear. “I need to talk to him about something? _Something little? No?”_

Storming down the hall to his room, he saw one of the Joker’s goons with a gun.

“Hands up, pretty boy!”

Punching the goon, he took his weapon and knocked him out across the face, before taking it apart and throwing the pieces on the floor, as he made his way into his bedroom. 

He rolled his eyes, when he noticed it wasn’t empty. 

“Wayne, what’s going on?” Some bald headed jerk demanded, and then replied, “Great, you have panic room.”

He didn’t hear what the jerk said afterwards, because he disappeared inside. 

It took him all of five minutes to get suited up. 

When he got back down the hallway from a secondary entrance, his gut clenched in fear as he heard what was happening. 

“Do you want to know how I got these scars?” The Joker chuckled, “Come here, _hey_...so I had a wife...beautiful like you, who tells me I need to smile more. Who gambles and gets in deep with the loan sharks. One day they carve her face...only we have no money for surgeries, and I just want to see her smile again! So, I stick a razor in my mouth and do this...to myself...and you know what? She can’t stand the sight of me! She leaves! Now I see the funny side! Now I’m always smiling!”

Rachel kneed him in the stomach, causing the Joker to buckle over. 

“You have a little fight in you,” the Joker grinned, waving his knife at Rachel threateningly, “I like that!”

“I’ll _bet_ you do.” Faith hissed, and he watched utterly horrified, when the Joker turned towards her and his smile widened into a full on manic grin. 

“Well, well, well! _Lookie at what have we here!”_

“Leave her alone, _Jack_. This is between you and me.”

The Joker sneered at her. 

“I don’t answer by that name anymore.”

Faith strode forward confidently, eyeing Rachel and shaking her head subtly at her. 

“Dent isn’t here. He left. So? I guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“You’ve always been a fighter, I do like that!”

“Then you’re gonna _love_ me.” Batman snarled, pushing Faith out of the way and attacking the Joker. Several of his goons joined in and Faith disarmed and took down one, before John Daggett tried to pull her back. The goon knocked him down and grabbed Faith, pointing a gun to her temple as the Joker simultaneously took Rachel and moved over by the window, holding a gun to her head. 

“Drop the gun!” Batman growled. 

“Sure, you just drop the mask and let everyone see your face.” The Joker deadpanned.

Rachel’s subtle shake of the head had Faith’s gut clenching. Bruce hadn’t even looked her way, as his entire focus was on Rachel and the Joker. 

The next thing Faith knew, the Joker shot his gun and blew out part of the glass window, holding Rachel aloft by a single hand, her body precariously hanging right over the edge and out into the open air. 

“Let her go!” Batman bit out. 

“Poor choice of words.” The Joker chuckled as he did indeed, let Rachel go and Faith watched in horrified shock as Bruce didn’t even hesitate and flew out the window after a screaming Rachel—who was sliding down the ledge towards her death. 

She however, valiantly maintained her composure, and in a flash—disarmed the goon who was holding her hostage—but the Joker grabbed Daggett off the floor and held a gun to his head. 

“Now, now, now! Let’s not get hasty! You make another move and I’ll blow this one’s head off.”

John’s eyes widened and she swallowed, noting the irritation in John’s eyes, but there was no fear. 

“What do you want?”

“Well, if I can’t have what I came for, I think I’ll just take you.”

“Like hell you will!” John growled out, struggling against the Joker’s hold, but the clown just laughed loudly. 

“Such a popular girl, you are!” He jammed his gun into Daggett’s temple. “Now, Gorgeous!”

She paled at the name, but nodded once. “You let him go and leave everyone here alone, and you’ve got a deal, Jack.”

“Faith, _no_!” John pleaded. 

Her smile was sad and she shook her head, then felt another gun being pressed to the back of her head again. 

“ _It’s for the best_.” She mouthed slowly, but she could see John was fighting it. He went to swing at the Joker, but the creep knocked him out and then came over—grabbing her by her hair. 

“Let’s go!”

She didn’t struggle, but she did glance over at Alfred’s direction and mouth, “Get Willow.”

Alfred bowed his head subtly, and when she was shoved into the elevator, she felt something prick her in the shoulder and her entire world went black. 

Bruce’s Penthouse was in absolute bedlam, as everyone was calling the police or their family members and evacuating as fast as possible. Daggett however, was just coming to and Alfred was on the phone talking to Giles. 

Bruce and Rachel were currently trying their best to get off the top of the car they’d smashed into. 

“Let’s not do that again.” Rachel quipped, causing him to shake his head, and then snarl, “I need to get back upstairs!”

“Go!”

He dashed back inside, and once he’d made his way back upstairs his emergency communicator suddenly went off. 

He looked down at the message from Alfred. 

“ _Joker took Faith.”_

_Fuck, he couldn’t breathe!_

He literally felt a crushing weight settling onto his chest. Tearing off his Batman gear, he ran back out into the living area and noticed John sitting on the sofa with a glass of water in his hand, but it appeared that everyone else had already gone. When the man saw him, he was up in a flash and Bruce didn’t have time to react when the John’s fist connected with his face. 

“Where the fuck were you, Wayne! That lunatic took Faith!”

He rubbed his jaw, and saw the look of concern on Alfred’s face. 

“I have a panic room. I went there when I heard the commotion, as I couldn’t find Faith. The door jammed and I had to go down the private elevator and back up through the service elevator.”

John scoffed at him in disgust, and he figured he deserved all the censure in the world. He didn’t regret saving Rachel and would do it again, but for the life of him—he couldn’t figure out how Faith had allowed herself to be taken without a fight!

“The Joker had a gun to Mr. Daggett’s head and threatened to kill him,” Alfred explained the unasked question, “Miss Lehane bartered her life for those here.”

He paled, and then he shook his head in fury. 

_How had this happened!?_

“Did you call Giles?”

“I did. Miss Faith mouthed to me to call Miss Willow.”

He nodded, and Daggett queried curiously, “I recognize that name. She was with Faith when she collapsed. How can she help?”

“That’s not your business, John!”

“I’m making it my business, old man! Or have you forgotten that your girlfriend, who you’ve ignored for the past two days, is pregnant with your child? Or are you hoping the Joker takes care of that little problem for you?”

He roared, punching Daggett, and leaving the man bleeding out on the floor.

“ **Don’t you dare say that again!”** He bellowed in rage. 

“Miss Faith is with child?” Alfred asked slowly, causing his anger to deflate a bit, as he sighed and nodded again. 

“She just found out this morning for sure.”

“And this fuck has been treating her as if it was all her fault that it happened.”

“I know it wasn’t her doing, Daggett...and you’re working on my last nerve right now!”

“Bruce?” The elevator door opened and out walked Buffy, Willow, and Giles. “We were on our way back here when we got Alfred’s call. What happened?”

“The Joker, he was here. He took Faith.”

“What?” Willow paled. “But _she’s_...”

“I _know_ , Willow. We need to find her, and something tells me you’re the only one who can.”

Buffy glanced over at Willow and the witch sighed, but nodded. 

“I can. Do you have a full map of Gotham?”

“I do.” Alfred stated, and then left to grab it, while John just stared at all of them in disbelief

“How are you able to do this? Miss Willow, is it?”

“Yes. You are?”

“John Daggett.”

“Oh, yeah. Faith’s mentioned you.”

Bruce scowled, while Daggett just seemed pleased. 

When Alfred returned, he set the map on the floor and Willow knelt down, pulling a chain from around her neck. 

“What’s that?” Daggett demanded, causing Bruce to growl and bite out harshly, “You need to leave, now!”

“I’m not going anywhere, Wayne. Faith saved my life, and I owe it to her to help find her.”

“We don’t need your help!”

“Actually, we need something of Faith’s. Something she’s touched recently?”

Everyone glanced around, but then John smiled smugly. “I gave her a rose tonight. Would that work?”

“ _You did what?”_ He snarled, his anger now a palpable thing. 

“What? It wasn’t like you were stepping up to the plate.” Daggett taunted and Bruce lost it— grabbing the man into a choke hold just as he heard Rachel’s voice yell out, “Bruce! What are you _doing_?!”

He threw Daggett down and fumed, “ _You need to remove him, Alfred—before I do something I’m going to regret._ ”

“You’re a right piece of work, Wayne!” John choked out, “Fucking coward, running off and hiding.”

“That’s enough, Daggett!” Rachel bit out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Rachel!” He warned. 

“No, please, Miss Dawes! Enlighten me with what an absolute waste of space, Bruce Wayne _isn’t_? He knocked up his girlfriend and then bailed on her! Then gets her kidnapped by that maniac...”

“What?” A small voice called out and every head whipped over, noticing Vi and Rona standing there. “That man...the one who assaulted Faith when she was 12 years old?”

“What the fuck is he talking about, Bruce?” Buffy grated out, at the same time as everyone started speaking at once. 

“What do you mean, when she was 12?” Daggett growled simultaneously. “Are you talking about the Joker? Is that why she called him Jack, like she knew him?”

“She’s _pregnant_?” Rachel whispered to him, and he bowed his head in the affirmative.

“Yes,” Violet answered Daggett, “Faith finally told me last night. Told me that she was the one who gave the Joker his scars...well, half of them. When she was twelve, he tried to rape her in the orphanage she’d been sent to after she saw her Father kill her Mother. She was mute up until that point. Wouldn’t talk to anyone.” Violet elaborated, and Bruce paled heavily as Faith hadn’t told him that part of her story. 

Both Buffy and Willow had tears in their eyes, while Giles looked like he wanted to be sick. 

Daggett however, turned and faced him with a murderous look. “Did you _know_ about this?”

He didn’t answer.

“ _You knew?!_ And you let her suffer for the last few days thinking that she was at fault?!”

“Shut up, John!” 

“I should kill you!!” 

“If we don’t find Faith alive, I might just let you.” He replied with dead seriousness. “She’s carrying _our_ child and you’re right, I should’ve put her first but Faith has always been so good at taking care of herself, that I didn’t even think she wouldn’t be here when I got back.”

“Bruce!”

“No Rachel, he’s right.” He then turned back to Daggett and said flatly, “For all your smarts, John? I’m surprised the truth hasn’t hit you yet. Or maybe, you just don’t want to believe what the evidence is telling you.”

“What evidence?” The man hissed. 

“Think about it, John. Why would I have really disappeared in my own home?”

Daggett could feel the weighted stares of everyone on him, as if he was supposed to come to some sort of earth-shattering revelation and as he looked over at Rachel Dawes, the truth hit him with the force of a tornado. 

He turned and stared at Wayne in horrified fascination. 

“You’re _him_?”

He nodded briskly. “I **am**.”

“Shit.”

“Pretty much.”

John stared at the window and then back at Bruce again. “How did you survive that?”

“Good tech.”

“I see.”

“Is this going to be a problem?” He bit out, and Daggett shrugged. 

“I don’t know, _will it?_ ”

A small clearing of a voice halted them all. When Daggett glanced over at Willow, she said succinctly, “I would be careful if I were you, Mr. Daggett. There are things in this world that can’t be explained away and if you betray Bruce, I can make it so you never remember anything about this night, or Faith ever again.”

“How?”

Daggett’s face dropped in abject fear as the sweet, elfin looking woman before him morphed into a black-haired, black-veined, black-eyed demon looking thing. 

“What are you?”

As her features returned to normal, her smile widened. “I’m a witch. Faith and the rest of the girls you’ve heard of, plus a few others you haven’t—are all part of a supernatural special forces unit. They kill demons, vampires and monsters. Faith is very capable of taking care of herself and is able to get herself out of most situations.”

“Can you find her?”

“Yes.” Willow nodded and then turned to Violet, “there’s a red rose downstairs in Faith’s apartment. Bring it back here, and we can get started.”

Violet nodded and rushed out, returning in a little over a minute with said item in hand. 

“Good,” Willow hummed, her eyes going dark, “let’s begin.”

It only took Willow five minutes to scry for Faith. When she was done, the crystal on Willow’s necklace pointed to a warehouse near the southwestern waterfront, not too far from the Wayne Dockyard. 

“I’m heading there now.” He took out his communicator from his pocket and gave it to Willow. “If her location changes, Willow—contact me immediately.”

“Will do.” 

“I’m coming with you, Bruce.” Buffy said firmly, and he nodded reluctantly. 

“What about us?” Vi pleaded. “What if there are vampires there?”

“Call the troops and have them head down to the site,” Buffy replied, “you two stay with Willow.”

“But...”

“Vi, it’ll be fine,” Buffy reassured, “Faith is as tough as they come and she will find a way out of this.”

Rona gripped Vi on her shoulder and squeezed it firmly, “We get it.” She then took out a metal stake from her jacket and handed it to Bruce. “This is mine, give it to Faith when you see her. You also might want to take her suit.”

“Good idea, Rona.” He nodded as he gave Daggett a brief scowl and left back to his room to grab the tech gear. He sighed when he heard familiar footsteps behind him. 

“Rachel, now’s not a good time. Besides, you need to check on Dent.”

“I will,” she replied uneasily, “but I just have to know? Why did you save me?”

He turned at looked at her incredulously. “Rachel, you’re my best friend and despite what’s happened, I would never have wished you harm. You would’ve died and that’s not something I could’ve ever lived with. Faith...I meant what I said before. It didn’t even _register_ that she wouldn’t be here waiting for me when I got back. I know that sounds selfish, but she’s the strongest person I’ve ever known and if anyone can get through this in one piece, it’s her.”

Rachel shook her head. “You’re in love with her.”

“ _ **Yes**_.”

“Was Daggett telling the truth, Bruce? You let that poor woman flounder for days thinking you didn’t want her or your child?”

“Damn it, Rachel!” He growled out. “I was _scared_ , alright?! Is that what you want me to say? My life has been so fucked up for so long, and now Daggett knows my secret. How long before some criminal comes after Faith, or our child?”

“If she’s as strong as you say, do you think for one moment she’d ever let anyone get near your child, much less harm it?”

He paused and then bit out emotively, “What if I don’t know how to be a good Father?”

Rachel walked up to her best friend and placed a hand over his heart. “You’ll be the best Father, Bruce. Because in spite of what you might want everyone else to think, you care more than anyone I’ve ever known. If Faith and your child dies, how will you handle that?”

He tipped his head down and then shook it roughly. 

“They _can’t_ ,” his voice broke, “because I won’t survive it if they do.”

“Then go, find Faith and bring her back home and for God’s sake, Bruce! Stop being such a self-sabotaging idiot!”

He chuckled and cocked his head in the affirmative, before rushing down towards his room to get his and Faith’s gear. When it was situated, he went back out and met Buffy. 

“Let’s go.”

“Wayne...” Daggett bit out, “if she dies, I’m coming for you.”

Giving John a measured look, he replied fiercely, “You underestimate her.” 

He didn’t look back as he got into the elevator with Buffy at his heels. Once the door closed, he turned and felt the sting of a slap across his cheek. He took a startled step back and noticed fiery green eyes blazing up at him. 

“I deserved that.”

“You _did_. What the fuck you were thinking, I have no idea! But something tells me, _when_ Faith makes it through this mess she’s going to make you grovel, before she ever considers forgiving you.”

Chuckling softly, he hummed in agreement. “You’re probably right.”


	30. Goodbye Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Jack finally face their past face to face.

When Faith finally came to, the first thing she noticed was she was the feeling of being strapped to a chair. The next thing was that it was drafty, and the last was the amused laughter of fucking Jack Napier.

“Oh _goody_! You’re finally awake!”

Groaning softly, she cracked her neck and then lifted her gaze completely, taking in her surroundings. 

They were in another warehouse of some kind. It was filled with barrels and when she glanced to her left, her eyes scrunched in confusion at the box with the lights blinking at her. Shaking her head to clear the fog from her mind, noting silently that she’d likely been drugged, her brain registered that the device she was staring at—was a _bomb_. 

Snorting out a disgusted huff, she turned her face to fully give the idiot across from her, her undivided attention. 

He was watching her too, an amused grin on his mangled face. 

“It’s been a while.”

“Not long enough,” she bit out caustically, “Nice makeup job though. Brings out the _crazy_ of your eyes.”

The Joker cackled madly, his feral grin somehow getting impossibly wider. 

“I’ve never forgotten you, _little girl._ Did you miss me?”

“A world of ‘ **no** ’ Jack. You’re a _demented freak._ ”

“And what are you?” The Joker taunted. “Poor little, Faith? Still looking for someone to take care of you, even after all this time? Don’t you know that no one will ever want you! You’re broken, damaged... _like me._ ”

“I’m _nothing_ like you, Jack.”

He growled and warned threateningly, “I told _you_ , I don’t go by that name anymore!”

“What? Too fucking hard for you to remember what a sick fuck you were back at the orphanage? Even I remember how you hurt the other kids, Jack. I wasn’t the first girl you went after, I was just the only one who fought back.”

He stalked over and slapped her across the face, and she felt felt the sting of the blow even as she tasted a bit of her own blood coating her tongue. 

Then the creep knelt down, so they were at eye level. 

“After I’m done here, I’m going to find your _little_ boyfriend and carve him up in two. Maybe, I’ll make sure when I do it, he’s wearing his little costume? _Out Bruce Wayne to the entire world?”_

She didn’t react, and it took a lot of effort as she replied back evenly, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“No?” Jack sneered. “Are you trying to tell me that the Bat, isn’t your little boy toy and that you’re not the Cat, that has been prowling around Gotham by his side? I’ll admit, I was surprised when I’d found out _who_ the Batman was, but it all made sense.”

“What’s your play?” She prevaricated. “What is it you want, _Jack_?”

“Why, I want to watch the world burn! It’s all I’ve ever wanted and luckily for me, I’ve found someone who shares my passion for chaos! Do what’s necessary and all that!” He cackled and then stood up, and paced in front of her, his expression filled with malice. “Did you honestly think that I’d forgotten about you after what you did to me?” He lifted his right finger and ran it along the scar she’d given him. “I’ve been watching you for _years_! Who do you think found out where you and your first Watcher were hiding out, and told Kakistos where to find you both? Who do you think it was, who laid the little gem in dear Gwendolyn’s ear about the Glove of Myhnegon? Who do you think, told dear Richard Wilkins about the favored name your Mother used to call you, _Firecracker_? You’d whisper it in your sleep when you thought you were safe, alone in your bed at night.”

She felt bile rising in her throat and her heart started thumping erratically in her chest. 

_This couldn’t be true_! 

This sick fuck had been stalking her for over 10 years?

“You seem _surprised_? That Assistant Mayor, the one you stabbed in the alley? _Who do you think sent him there?”_

The Joker chuckled, when he noticed Faith’s stoic expression shift. 

But he wasn’t done. 

“Who do you think gave dear Richard the knife that Buffy used to gut you with?”

She was now breathing heavily through her nose, doing everything within her power not to unleash her fury at this sick fuck. 

“No? You disappeared for a time, but Crane found your little pet, Violet? Who do you think sent him to woo the girl and kidnap her?”

She snarled and pulled on her bindings, which caused the Joker to huff out in manic laughter. 

“You still have that fight in you. I do so like that.” He licked his lips, moving over and kneeling down in front of her again with a sinister gleam in his eyes. “ _Who do you think was responsible for the mix up at the lab with your birth control? Are you in the family way yet?”_ He taunted, as he clearly knew the answer. 

She paled and then screamed, “ **You sick fuck!”**

“Awwww, you say the sweetest things.” He chuckled again. “But no matter, I’m sure I’ve made my point by now, right? No one will _ever_ want you. Your little Batman, the minute he found out you were pregnant, bolted liked a scaredy-cat. Tsk, tsk.”

Her gaze narrowed. 

How in the fuck did Jack know about that, no one knew....

Her expression shifted as she asked, “How do you know all this?”

“Oh, silly girl! I told you I’ve been _watching_ you. It helps to have someone on the inside, even if they don’t know it.”

“What?” She gritted out, before her eyes widened in horror. “ _What did you do to her?”_

The Joker threw back his head in laughter. 

“Crane was a useful pawn.” He snickered, “His drugs were quite the trip and he perfected a slightly more interesting serum that puts the user under suggestive control without consciously realizing it. Little Violet had no idea she was being used.”

“ _I’m going to kill you_!!” She cried out, enraged. 

Jack clapped and laughed even harder. “There she is, **little Miss Killer!** I knew she was in there _somewhere_ , just waiting to come out and play.”

“And the vampires and demons?”

“Well, I did promise to help get rid of a few of the Slayers—you included, and that assured me of their help.”

“Where are they?”

“Hanging out at Oswald’s, waiting for my return!”

She pulled on her bindings, breathing heavily, knowing in her heart that the demented person in front of her would _never_ stop, until he destroyed everything and everyone she’d ever cared about...

...her child included. 

It was at that moment, she knew what she _had_ to do. 

“Tell me, _Jack_? Why bring me here? Doesn’t this game work better with me alive?” She glanced around the room. “Are we playing a new game now?”

He clapped manically, before he pulled out the detonator from his purple coat. “This is a little timer. When I press the button here, you’ll have about a minute to clear the building. I’m thinking you might get pretty singed in the blast, but it’ll be fun seeing you try and escape.”

“And if I _don’t_? If I just allow it to kill me, then what?”

“Oh, we both know you won’t, little girl. You’ve got a Little Bat to protect, so something tells me you’ll make it out of here rather crispy, maybe otherwise alive, but minus that child you and your Bat don’t want.”

She sat there, and realized belatedly that Jack hadn’t taken the knife from her thigh. Either he hadn’t bothered to check her, or didn’t seem overly worried she had it. 

Either way, he wasn’t getting out of this warehouse alive either. 

“And what makes you think you’ll be getting out of here in one piece, Jack?”

He just smirked at her amused. 

“Once that door over there closes, it’ll lock _permanently_. The steel is six inches thick, so not even your increased strength will manage to knock...it...down. You’ll just have to find some other way out.”

“Good to know.” She gritted, then broke through her bindings—cutting her skin as she flew at Jack and knocked him back before rushing over and slamming the door shut, hearing it latch and watching with satisfaction when Jack realized what she’d done. 

She didn’t give him and chance to comment though, as she took her knife and tossed it across the room, slicing it through the hand that was holding the detonator and watching the bomb activate, his hand reflexively clamping the ‘ _on_ ’ switch.

“What have you _done?!”_ He screeched. 

“This is where we part ways, Napier. _See you in hell_.”

She launched herself up 30 feet towards the rafters, dodging Jack’s gunshots until she reached the small window up on the ledge, facing the water. She glanced down, and Jack was screaming, desperately trying to defuse the bomb. When it clicked down to five seconds, she broke through the window with her elbow and launched herself out, just as the explosion rocked the very foundations of the warehouse—throwing her a good hundred feet into the air and then crashing down into the frigid waters below. 

Bruce and Buffy were nearly to the warehouse, when they heard the cacophonous sound of the explosion before they felt the force of the heat as it engulfed everything in its path. Bruce immediately slammed on his brakes, turned off the car, and threw his door open, running for the burning building as he cried out Faith’s name in anguish. 

“Bruce!” Buffy grabbed him, halting him from running full bore into the blazing inferno. 

**_“No!”_** He ripped his arm away, bellowing out, “She can’t be _gone_!”

“Bruce!” Buffy pulled him back, against his wishes. 

The man was a lot stronger than he looked and Buffy could feel his desperation as he kept calling out Faith’s name. He hadn’t had time to change into his Batman gear—and a few stragglers were now milling about. One obviously recognized Bruce and Buffy went over to grab the man’s cell phone before he decided to do something stupid like take a video.

“Don’t even **think** about it.” She snarled and the guy took a step back, lifting both hands in supplication. 

Bruce kept calling out for Faith, as he tried to round to the other side of the warehouse by the water, and he could hear the cop cars and fire trucks in the distance, but he simply didn’t care. 

He couldn’t...believe...that Faith and his child were gone!

**_He just wouldn’t believe it!_**

Faith at that moment, managed to break up to the surface of the water with a heave of air and swam towards the dock on the far side of the warehouse explosion, her head hitting the dock pylon as she continued to gasp for breath and try and keep conscious...she was losing blood fast. 

Then she thought she heard someone yelling her name. 

_Bruce!?_

**Shit!**

Closing her eyes, she called out her mind for Buffy, knowing instinctively that her sister Slayer would be close by if Bruce was here, and obviously not sporting his Batman tech if he was screeching out her name like that. 

Buffy at that moment was walking back over towards a frantic Bruce Wayne, when she heard Faith’s voice speak into her mind. 

Hearing her gasp, Bruce turned to her and demanded, “What?”

She didn’t answer however, as she took off for the far side of the pier with Bruce immediately giving chase, just as the first fire truck arrived on scene. When Buffy got to the dock, she scanned her gaze around until she saw a form clinging onto the far end of the pier, bobbing up and down in the dark waters. 

Bruce’s gaze locked onto Faith a split second after Buffy’s did, but he didn’t hesitate as he ran for the water and dove straight in. Swimming out to the edge of the pier, he grabbed his Slayer, who was bleeding, and swam with her back towards Buffy—who was holding down her hands for them both. 

Lifting Faith up first, Buffy then helped out a soaking Bruce too, and watched in satisfaction as he lifted Faith into his arms and carried her towards the emergency vehicles. 

When they cleared the warehouse, he was screaming for an ambulance. 

“No hospitals.” He heard Faith whisper, but he shook his head firmly in the negative. 

“You need a Doctor. Please, Gorgeous? I need to make sure you and our baby are okay!”

She simply didn’t have the energy to fight him so she opened her mind to Buffy, and shared with her a brief synopsis of what had gone down with the Joker, before she felt her body give way to a blissful state of unconsciousness.

The rescue workers rushed over, guiding them to where they needed Faith to go. 

“Mr. Wayne, we need you to put her down.”

He carefully lowered Faith onto a blanket that another firefighter had placed on the ground. He watched closely as the first responders checked Faith’s vitals and he could hear an ambulance roaring in the distance. 

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Yes?”

“Is there anything we need to know before the paramedics take her?”

He nodded and then swallowed heavily, before croaking out, “She’s _pregnant_. Just a few weeks...”

The man’s eyes widened, then he waved another person over, whispering something and then more blankets were brought over to keep Faith’s body temperature up. 

“Is she allergic to anything?”

“No,” Buffy replied, “but she was drugged, and we don’t know with what.”

The firefighter nodded as he kept working trying to stem the bleeding on the deep lacerations located on Faith’s wrists. Bruce hissed in horror, when he noticed how bad they looked, now that the blood was being cleaned off. 

She must’ve broken through some fairly tight shackles to have wounds like that. 

When the ambulance finally arrived, the paramedics rushed over and placed Faith on a gurney, transporting her towards the back of the vehicle. 

“I’m coming with her.” He growled out, but the paramedic shook his head in the negative. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne. It’s policy. No one can ride in the back with the patient but myself.”

He went to complain, but Buffy gripped his arm in warning. 

“We will follow. Which hospital, Bruce?”

“Gotham General.”

The paramedics nodded and got Faith situated, before they took off across town with Bruce and Buffy following right behind them. 

Hitting his car phone, he sighed when Alfred answered. 

“Master Wayne?”

“Faith’s alive. We are heading to Gotham General now.”

“That’s good news,” Alfred whispered to the room, and then he noticed Buffy’s expression darken. 

“Buffy?” He asked with worry.

“Alfred? I need to speak with Willow.”

“Of course, Miss Buffy.”

There was a moment of garbled voices and then Willow came on the line. 

“Buffy?”

“Listen carefully, Willow...Violet is under some kind of brain washing. She’s been passing info to the Joker. You need to take her back to the apartment and lock her down with magic until we can figure out how to undo what Crane did to her.”

“How did you find this out?”

“Faith. She got Napier to admit it. I’ll need your help too.”

“What do you need.”

“I’ll tell you soon. I’ll call you once Faith is settled at the hospital.”

“Angel called me, he was looking for Faith.”

“ _Shit_.” 

“He will be here first thing in the morning, Buffy. He’s going to be livid.”

“I know.” 

When the phone call disconnected, he remained silent for a few moments before he asked hesitantly, “There’s more to this, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

Buffy glanced at him and said shortly, “Give me one good reason why I should?”

“Because I’m in love with Faith, and I want to be with her. Yes, I didn’t handle it well when she told me about the pregnancy, but the truth was? I was petrified.”

“Of being with Faith?”

“No, of being a horrible parent. Of this life I’ve chosen to lead...to be the protector of Gotham. That this choice might cause history to repeat itself? There was a time I thought it might be possible that when Gotham no longer needed the Batman, I could try and live a normal life.”

“And _now_.”

“I’ve realized that I _don’t want normal._ I’m not even sure what that would look like anymore. Being with Faith, fighting side by side with her these past weeks, has been the most alive I’ve ever felt and selfishly, I don’t want to give that up.”

“And you think you’d have to with a child?”

“Can you honestly tell me that Faith is going to be alright with me going out patrolling without her, while she stays home with a baby?”

“Or vice versa?”

“Touché.” He smirked, before his voice grew serious. “Is she going to forgive me?”

“I don’t think it’s you that you’ll need to worry about.”

“I don’t understand?”

“It’s whether Faith can forgive herself.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“She won’t see it that way, Bruce.”

Shaking his head in exasperation, he gritted out, “Spit it out, Buffy. If this, whatever it is, is going to affect Faith and our baby, I need to know.”

“She didn’t tell me everything, but told me enough to know that Jack Napier has been targeting her for _years_...”

“ _What?”_

“Yes. Look, Faith...we have a contentious past. More than you can possibly imagine, but something tells me that much of what Faith has suffered has been due to Jack Napier. He’s been stalking her life for over 10 years. He was the one who told the vampire Kakistos where to find Faith and her first Watcher.”

“The one who was murdered brutally in front of her?”

“Yes. He was also the one responsible for telling her second Watcher Gwendolyn about the Glove of Myhengon. Jack Napier has been orchestrating and playing Faith’s life like a puppet. He was the one responsible for the mix up of her birth control too.”

“ ** _What?!”_**

“Bruce, he knew you were the Batman.”

His face turned ashen, as he gripped the steering wheel tight. 

“Violet?”

“Probably.”

“Shit. Faith is never going to forgive herself for that alone.”

“I know.” Buffy agreed with a sad sigh, before she offered, “Jack Napier is dead.”

“How?”

Buffy shared with him what Faith had told her, and he nodded in grim satisfaction as the fucker had gotten exactly what he’d deserved. 

“And you’re sure he’s dead?”

“Faith was certain.”

“ _Good_.”

The rest of the drive was silent, and he pondered just how Faith was going to deal with the ramifications of learning that the better part of her life had been manipulated by a psychotic madman hell bent on revenge. 

If she’d had a hard enough time trusting before, it was going to be nothing compared to the fall-out from this cluster fuck. 

Pulling into the Emergency Room parking, he was immensely grateful that there was no press there yet. That would change soon enough, but for now he was able to walk into the waiting area and explain who he was there for. The nurse smiled at him reassuringly, and told him he’d need to wait until they’d triaged Faith.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but clearly it had been a while, because Buffy had left and returned several times after making phone calls, and then Rona showed up with Colleen, Shannon and John Daggett at their heels.

The fucking man was like a cockroach, he thought unkindly, as he sat down from Buffy scrolling through his phone. 

It was about six hours after they’d arrived, and Alfred bringing him a dry change of clean clothes, that the Emergency Room Doctor finally came out to talk with them. 

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Yes?” He stood up immediately, feeling his heart jumping into his throat. 

He tried to get a read on the doctor, but the man was good. 

His expression was completely passive. 

“Doctor Fielding.” The two men shook hands. “Miss Lehane is awake, and asking for you.”

He felt his body deflate in cautious relief, following the doctor back to where Faith was located. She was in the last private room, which had an adjoining anterior room attached to it for additional privacy. 

They had put her into a hospital gown, and her wrists were bandaged along with a few other smaller bandages on her arms and legs. 

He knocked on the doorframe to get her attention, and when she turned to him her eyes were tired and resigned. 

“Hi,” He swallowed nervously, moving into her room slowly, waiting for some sort of sign that she wanted him there, but she didn’t beckon him over at all, so he took the seat next to her bed and nodded to the doctor. “Is everything okay?” 

There was fear in Bruce’s voice and she could hear it. She could see he was struggling to try and figure out how they were going to navigate the mess that had defined their relationship for the past few days. 

“Did Buffy tell you?”

“Yes, but in her defense I was rather insistent.”

_There it was!_

Faith’s lips quirked briefly before her expression grew haunted. 

“So you know about the _why_?”

“I do, and you have to know it doesn’t change anything for me.”

She didn’t reply, noting that the doctor had left them to their privacy. 

“That fucker has been ruining my life for years.” He could hear the anger and devastation in her voice. “So much bad stuff and to know that he was behind it all.”

“Faith...”

“No! You can’t wave this away as some sort of nonsense, Wayne.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Faith. I know how hard this must be for you and I know how you will try and blame yourself, but this is not your fault. The blame is solely on Jack Napier.”

“And Violet? How do I let that go? Once she’s free of the mind control, she’s going to hate me!”

“No, she won’t. She’ll blame herself, just like you’re doing right now. But if I know anything about that young woman? It is that she adores you, and would die to protect you and I know you feel the same.”

“I do.” She replied unequivocally.

He traced her bandaged wrist with his index finger and sighed. “I’m so sorry, Gorgeous. I wish I could go back and handle the news of our baby better. You have to know that it was never about you.”

“It’s not me, it’s you? Or the opposite? Fuck, whatever.”

“Yeah. Buffy slapped me too, when she found out.”

She huffed out a laugh. “You deserved it.”

“Daggett punched me as well.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

Biting her lip, she tried desperately to prevent a grin from breaking free, before her face fell again.

“Is Rachel okay?”

“She’s fine.” He tilted his head curiously as he asked, “Aren’t you angry with me about that?”

“Why would I be angry with you, Bruce? She would’ve died had you not gone after her, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why would you think I’d be upset about that?” She shook her head. “Bruce, I would’ve been more surprised had you not jumped out of that window. It’s who you are.”

_Damn!  
_

He felt his throat constrict with how much Faith continually surpassed every bench mark he subconsciously threw her way. 

He didn’t even realize he did it, but knew instinctively that it was probably part of his own inherent issues with trust. 

He dropped his forehead onto the bed near Faith’s side, and felt his body shaking with repressed adrenaline. 

“ _Is our baby okay?”_ His voice cracked on the last word, and he felt Faith’s hand run through his hair soothingly. 

“It’s too soon to tell.” She replied simply. “I’m at most about four weeks along, so there’s not much to see. There’s always a chance my body may abort the pregnancy on its own if the damage from today was too great. They took some blood, and are checking my hormone levels to see if the pregnancy is still active.”

“And when can they do a sonogram?”

“The doctor said 6-8 weeks.”

He nodded. “Okay.” 

He kissed the back of her hand tenderly and felt a tear roll down his cheek and her breath caught as she noticed his emotional distress. 

“My reluctance was because I was _afraid_ ,” he admitted shakily, “I was so afraid that if anyone ever found out that I was Batman, that they would come after you or our child. That our child would lose its parents just like we lost ours. I know it’s not rational, but that was my fear.”

“And now.”

“I’m still terrified, but I’m not going to let my fear ruin what we have. We’re having a baby, and hopefully the Powers that Be, will make sure he or she is healthy and strong. No, we didn’t plan this but let’s be honest...we probably never would’ve. Yet fate had a different plan for us, and I’m not unhappy about it.”

“Are you really sure, Bruce? Because I can’t go through another rollercoaster with you like these last two days. I was ready to walk away and if the Joker hadn’t kidnapped me, I think I would’ve.”

“And would you have taken Daggett up on his offer?” He bit out. 

“Told you, did he?”

“Yes. I punched him and then put him in a head lock. Had I not been interrupted...”

“Bruce...”

“Don’t look at me like that. I warned him. He’s outside, by the way.”

“Why?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not going to deny it.” He smirked. “You _do_ realize this is going to be all over the news by tomorrow?”

“Oh, joy!”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer my question about Daggett’s offer, either.”

“Would you like the honest truth?”

“Is it going to make me want to go back out there and knock all his teeth out?”

“Probably.”

He sneered in ire. “You’d have gone to him?”

She shrugged. “I would’ve been royally pissed at you first, and likely wanted to piss you off in turn, so I won’t deny the thought was there.”

“Okay? And how am I supposed to take that?”

“That’s not up to me.”

He averted his gaze for a moment before he asked, “How long do you think it’ll take your wounds to heal?”

“A week, maybe.”

He nodded before his expression pinched. “Daggett knows about me, about you too.”

Her brow furrowed before she bit back, “Who told him?”

“I did about me, anyway. He was being an ass and accused me of not protecting you.”

“Well, in his defense...”

“Don’t go there again, Gorgeous. I don’t want to have to utterly _ruin_ the man.”

She snorted. “Liar. You’d enjoy it—if only for the reason that you’d _get off on it._ ”

“True.”

“Is Buffy still here?”

“Yes, why?”

She closed her eyes and called out to her Sister Slayer, who responded back promptly. 

When she was done with their silent confab, she opened her eyes and immediately noticed Bruce eyeing her with interest. 

“I still can’t get over the fact that you’re telepathic.”

“Well, just with Buffy and Willow.”

“Have you ever tried it with any of your other sister Slayers?”

“Nope. Never saw a reason to, why?”

“Just wondering. What about someone who isn’t a Slayer?”

“No.”

“You know? In my time with the League, I did a lot of mind meditations.”

“ _And_?”

“Just thought I’d mention it, is all. You know? In case you thought that it might be helpful at some point, particularly when we’re out on patrol.”

“I’m surprised you’d even be okay with me going out after what just happened.”

“Could I stop you?”

“Hell no.”

He just gave her a look that basically said, “ _exactly_ ,” and she rolled her eyes at him. 

“Are you tired, hungry?”

“I’m kinda hungry.”

“Was what you told John earlier tonight, true?”

“About not eating?” He nodded, and she mimicked the movement. “I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”

“You need to eat better, Faith. Growing a baby is hard work, from what I’ve been led to understand.” Faith snorted, but Bruce just grinned before he cocked his head at her. “You know, I don’t think in all my life I’ve ever seen anyone look as exquisite as you did when you walked into the party tonight.”

“Well, I wanted to make sure John got his money’s worth.”

His expression darkened at first, before his lips lifted into a wicked smirk. “Vixen! You’re trying to punish me, aren’t you?”

“No, that’ll come when I’m feeling better.” At Bruce’s raised eyebrows, she mocked, “Actually, _smartass_? I’ll leave the particulars of your punishment up to you.”

“In what way?”

“You can either continue putting up with John Daggett and his never ending infatuation? Or you can accept whatever punishment I decide you deserve for being such a _fucking ass._ But be careful, and choose wisely.”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” She deadpanned, and then he noticed her lips quivering slightly as she finished, “You really hurt me. You made me _regret_ trusting you. So you do the math, Wayne.”

“Gorgeous...” 

The word was said with a pleading edge, but she shook her head emphatically. 

“Nope. Those are the choices. Take it or lump it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“ _Then I walk._ It’s pretty simple. You want my forgiveness? You want to prove to me that I can trust you to not break my fucking heart again? You’re going to have to show me you’ve got what it takes.”

As much as he hated to hear how much he’d hurt Faith, he knew deep down that he’d done so. He had been scared, but he’d promised her he’d take care of her and give her everything she deserved, and at the first sign of a complication—he’d balked and freaked. 

And left her wondering all alone, if he could be trusted with her heart. 

“Fair enough.” He said after a moment. “If that’s the price I have to pay for hurting you, then I’ll take the consequences.”

“And?”

“It’s not even a question, Gorgeous. I want John Daggett gone. So I’ll suffer your wrath, if that means I’m able to earn your trust again.”

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Fine. Once I’m better and you serve your sentence, he’s history. But until then...”

He scoffed. “You’re playing games, Gorgeous?”

“No, I’m making sure you understand, Bruce Wayne— _that...I. Have. Options._ You’ve been in the driver’s seat when it’s come to your relationships in the past. Maybe not so much with Rachel, but let’s be honest—you could’ve walked away from your other persona at any time, but you didn’t. You chose to fight. _You like it._ And it might not even be a stretch to say that a part of you **craves** it. That’s why you were attracted to me in the first place. You can come play in the dark with me and it’s okay. I’ll never judge that part of you that craves that danger. If anything, I understand it better than anyone you’re ever gonna meet. I can keep up with you, stand toe to toe with you and challenge you to fight harder and better. But make no mistake. You screw me over again? _I’m gone._ I'm not some simple, empty-headed model and I have way more money than you do now.”

He cracked a sexy grin, before his shoulders shook with repressed laughter. His hazel eyes were gleaming with affection, as he cupped her chin and said deeply, “ _I fucking love you.”_

“ **What?!?”** She sputtered out in shock, clearly not believing what he’d just said. 

“You heard me, Gorgeous.”

“But you just...”

“I know what I said. I’m in love with you. You’re _it_ for me. What part of that don’t you understand?”

“Uhm....all of it?” She squeaked.

“Too bad. Deal with it.”

“Why you fucking, _arrogant_...”

He swooped down and instantly covered Faith’s mouth with his, and smiled into the kiss when he felt her instantly melt into his attentions. He took his time and cupped her cheeks softly, taking sustenance from her mouth like a man starved. When he felt he’d made his point—he broke the kiss with a shit-eating grin. 

“ _You’re welcome.”_ He quipped half-serious, half-joking causing her to snort out in feigned disgust. But her lips were quirking up in amusement too, as she replied in kind, “I’m fairly certain I didn’t thank you, Krasivyy.”

His expression immediately brightened at the use of the beloved endearment. 

“Perhaps—but I’m sure I’ll be thanking you enough for the both of us, very soon.”

“You can count on it.” She promised, with a naughty wink.

  



	31. Cavemen and Astronauts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Rachel have a moment before Faith is discharged from the hospital and returns home where Angel is waiting.

Angel had arrived that next morning around 6am and had called Faith, but had gotten Bruce instead. When he’d been told what had happened, he’d made his way to Faith’s apartment to await her return. 

Her doctor had admitted her for overnight observation and Bruce had Alfred bring some fresh clothes and something decent to eat. By the time Dr. Fielding did his rounds around ten the next morning, Faith was in better spirits and chomping at the bit to get home. 

It didn’t help that the lead story on every news station that morning and trending nationally, was her hostage situation and the likely death of the Joker. 

The particulars were being kept hush-hush, but she’d been annoyed, as Bruce knew she would be. Even the health care workers at the hospital were fussing over her.

Her room had been filled with flowers from almost every socialite that had been in attendance at the fundraiser—praising her bravery and self-sacrifice.

Faith Lehane had become a Gotham heroine overnight. 

Add that to her titles of Grand Duchess and kick ass Slayer, and Bruce was fairly certain she was going to stake someone soon, if she couldn’t get out of the hospital. 

Buffy had gone with all the junior Slayers, except Violet and Rona, to Oswald’s and had taken out the remaining vampires and demons that had been helping to terrorize the city. 

John Daggett of course, had sent the biggest arrangement of flowers that had Faith—not so subtly, smirking at Bruce in satisfaction. But to his credit, he’d just kissed her and told her he loved her—and that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Dr. Fielding had taken to stopping by often, probably more than any doctor normally would on his daily rounds. He had let them know the evening of Faith’s first full day in the hospital, that the blood work had returned and the results showed at least for the time being, that her pregnancy was still viable. She’d thanked the doctor, while Bruce had been utterly relieved by the news. 

If she’d had any doubts as to whether or not Bruce had finally come to terms with their situation, his reaction and subsequent relief had dispelled any qualms that might’ve still lingered in her mind. 

Her heart was another matter altogether.

As much as she wanted to believe that Bruce was in love with her, his recent actions left her feeling like she was suffering from fucking whiplash. He was hot and cold, and as much as she tried to exude a tough exterior, her heart was a very fragile thing. Bruce was right about one thing however, the guilt she felt over Jack Napier’s actions was hard to get past. 

Her second full day in the hospital, she was still waiting to be released when she received an unexpected visitor. 

Bruce had gone home to shower and change, stating he’d be back with some decent food within an hour—leaving her alone to rest. 

But sleep was eluding her, so she was staring out her window—deep in thought when a woman’s voice cleared subtly. 

Turning her head, her eyes widened slightly at the person standing hesitantly in her hospital doorway.

“Hi, I’m sorry if this isn’t a good time.”

Taking in Rachel Dawes appearance, she had to admit the woman looked tired. She was probably still hurting from her brush with death, but Faith had to give it to her... 

She didn’t seem too traumatized by the experience. 

“It’s fine.” She said simply, as she tried to sit up a bit more. 

Rachel, seeing her struggle, came over and gingerly helped Bruce’s paramour readjust herself into a more comfortable position. 

“How are you feeling?” Rachel asked kindly, before she sat down in Bruce’s semi-permanent spot. 

“Five by five. How are you feeling?”

Rachel shrugged. “Busy. Trials start next week and there’s still a lot to do.”

Nodding in understanding, she hummed thoughtfully. “Harvey okay, too?”

“He’s fine. A bit tired, but loving all the attention.”

Smiling softly, she had to admit that she kinda liked Harvey’s style. 

“Bruce told me about the baby.” Rachel admitted.

“He’d said that he had.”

“He also told me why he freaked out.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I thought maybe I could help clarify a few things, if you’d like me to?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t stop you, but feel free.”

Rachel huffed out a small snort, and then gripped her hands tightly as she began to speak...

“I’ve known Bruce my whole life. We grew up together. My mom worked at Wayne Manor as a domestic and I knew Bruce’s parents very well. Thomas and Martha Wayne were two of the most genuine people you could ever hope to have for parents. They were loving, affectionate and supportive and they _adored_ Bruce. He was everything to them.”

Faith nodded, as she could tell Rachel was struggling to try and get the words out...

“When they’d died, a large part of Bruce died with them. I know about your Mom and Dad, and I think of all the people Bruce could’ve met, you probably understand better than anyone what that’s like?”

“I _do_.”

Rachel nodded slowly. “My mom decided to leave Wayne Manor after Bruce’s parents deaths, and I know there was a part of Bruce that felt I’d abandoned him too, even though he knew on some level that wasn’t the case. A few years later, we ended up at the same private high school here in Gotham. I was there on a scholarship, and Bruce...well...”

“Most popular boy in school?”

“That about sums it up.”

“He told me a bit of your history.”

“Oh?” Rachel was genuinely surprised, as Bruce didn’t like to discuss that time in his life at all. She considered the woman across from her and belatedly realized that Bruce must really be in love with Faith Lehane, if he was baring his secrets to her. 

“You seemed surprised?” 

“No offense, but I am. Bruce never, _ever_ —discussed feelings with me even when we were seeing each other. I was completely in love with him, and he...”

“Partied and flirted with other girls in front of you?”

“Yes, but how did you know that?”

“Because it sounds like something he’d do to try and push you away.”

“Yes.” Rachel’s expression was almost impressed, and she could see that Rachel was definitely more curious than emotional now. 

“I broke it off with him after graduation. I wanted to believe that he’d miss me enough to wake up out of his apathy. He didn’t.” She paused and then asked quietly, “He told you why he left Gotham?”

“Yes, and where he was those seven years.”

Rachel blanched at that admission, and then chuckled softly. “He’s _really_ in love with you. I honestly didn’t think he was actually capable of it.”

“Neither do I.”

“Do?”

“I’m still coming to terms with it? As closed off from my emotions as I am, being with Bruce is like playing a really hard game of Whack-a-mole. I feel more emotionally bludgeoned some days than others.”

Rachel snickered and then threw her head back in laughter, and Faith joined her as they both had a good laugh at Bruce’s expense. 

“He _is_ a petulant child sometimes.” Rachel sniffed, as she wiped a stray tear away. 

“He’s also brave, reckless, and far too comfortable calling the shots.”

“Touché.” Rachel smirked. “But something tells me you don’t let him get away with that?”

“ _Hell no_!” She snorted in mock disgust, “He’s lucky I decided to give him a second chance. Did you know that John Daggett offered to sweep me off my feet and raise my child as his own. Sweet of him, but not something that a proud man like Bruce Wayne would’ve ever allowed.”

“Wow!” Rachel grinned impishly, “I can just imagine. _Oh damn!_ That’s why they were both acting like a couple of posturing peacocks the other night when the Joker had taken you. I walked in on Bruce gripping John in a choke hold. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as pissed as she was in that moment!”

“Nice!” She snorted at first, and then scoffed. “Maybe they both should’ve just gotten a tape measure, whipped it out and compared family jewels just to see who’s the _better man?_ ”

Rachel heaved over in guffaws, while she just shook her head at the thought. 

“You have a singular wit.” Rachel snickered causing Faith to smile. 

“So I’ve been told.” She bantered back with good humor. “But honestly, I like John Daggett well enough, but he’s not dark enough for me. Being a Slayer, your life is filled with danger all the time.”

“And Bruce has that?”

“In _spades_.” She sighed in pleasure. “He’s complicated, stubborn, smart, sexy and an _amazing_ fuck. But, you already knew that too.”

“Damn girl, if I didn’t think it before—that you could handle Bruce, I’m totally convinced of it now. He’s not going to know what hit him.”

“That’ll be _me_.” She winked, and Rachel choked on a grin. “I have yet to enact my own revenge on him for being such a dick to me when I told him about the pregnancy. He’s offered to take his punishment, if I give John the old heave ho.”

“Shit. Remind me not to get on your bad side again.”

She grinned, and then her expression turned serious. “I know Bruce cares for you, Rachel. He wouldn’t have jumped out of that window if he’d hadn’t.”

“I thought you might’ve been more upset about that.”

“So did Bruce, but come on? We both know Bruce Wayne well enough. He puts himself out there night after night, fighting the good fight for the citizens of Gotham. What does that tell you about how he would act if someone he truly cared about was in danger?”

“He’d die for them.”

“Yes, and as much as he won’t ever admit it to himself, I think he’ll be the best Father. I just hope I can be a good Mother.” She glanced down at her stomach and gripped it, and felt Rachel’s hand covering her own. 

“You _will_ be. This kid will be so loved and protected.”

“Yeah.” She sniffed with emotion, wiping at her eyes in frustration. “Damn, fucking hormones.”

“The baby is okay?”

“My hormone levels show the pregnancy is fine for now, but we will just have to wait and see. Being a Slayer gives me advanced healing and regenerative mojo, so I should be healed within a few days. No scars.”

“That’s handy.”

“It is. Being a hot chick with superpowers definitely has its perks.”

Rachel grinned and then they both started laughing again. 

Bruce sat there and listened outside the door with a small smile on his face. He had to admit that it was interesting and informative to hear the two most important women in his life getting along, even if they were doing it at his expense. Listening to Faith’s praise of him had his heart swelling with love for her, but he could also tell from her words, that she didn’t quite believe in his own declaration of love. 

He would have to make sure he didn’t give her reason to doubt him again. 

Knocking softly on Faith’s hospital door, he peeked his head through and watched as both women had matching shit-eating grins on their faces, before they dissolved again into raucous laughter. 

“Hello, ladies? _Why_ do I have the feeling my ears should be _burning_?”

Rachel blushed, but Faith just quirked a knowing eyebrow at him and his expression fell slightly. 

Fuck! 

He’d forgotten what Vi and Rona had said from before. 

Then his lips lifted into a devious smirk as he stared back at Faith in challenge, but she didn’t flinch—she just snorted and turned back to Rachel, saying, “Thanks for stopping by, Rachel. For what it’s worth, I respect the fact that you did.”

“Thanks.” Rachel nodded, as she cleared her throat awkwardly. “For what it’s worth? I think what you did the other night was really brave. I’m glad you’re both okay and if you need anything, let me know.”

Faith held her hand out, and Rachel smiled softly as she shook it firmly. “I will.”

Rachel patted Bruce’s shoulder on her way out of the room, and once she was gone—Bruce turned back to his Slayer, folding his arms over his chest and said briskly, “How much of that conversation was for my benefit?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Krasivyy? You weren’t listening in, _were you_?”

Bruce chortled, coming over and gently helping Faith scoot over a bit so he could sit down next to her on her bed. 

“You’re _trouble_.”

“You can handle trouble, Wayne.”

“Yes, I can.” He replied easily, before he took his hand and lifted her chin up to his and then leant forward in an almost threatening way—whispering in warning...

“Just for the record, Gorgeous? There will _never_ be a need for you to measure the Wayne Family jewels against anyone else’s, because the only man who’s ever going to be making love to you and hearing you scream in pleasure again, is going to be _me_. Understand?”

Lifting a perfectly sculpted eyebrow in mock challenge, she just leant forward herself so that their lips were barely touching, as she replied even more quietly, “I don’t see a ring on my finger, Wayne. That day may _never_ happen? So, I wouldn’t get too cocky right about now. Just because you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had, and I happen to find you rather pretty, doesn’t mean I’m going to let you call all the shots.”

“Fair enough.” He growled, before he joined their lips demandingly, and then deepened the kiss instantly—cupping Faith’s face in his hands as he controlled the moment. 

They were so lost to each other they didn’t hear any one enter, until another voice cleared behind them. When Bruce finally broke the kiss, she glanced over his shoulder and saw Dr. Fielding watching them with a bemused expression on his face. 

“Miss Lehane, Mr. Wayne?” Bruce pulled back as she chirped out a sunny, “Hey Doc!”

“I’m here to check your bandages. Is now a good time?”

“Oh! Sure.” She blushed, while Bruce sat back in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face. 

He watched carefully as Dr. Fielding removed the dressings that had been placed the night before and his eyes widened in wonder. He’d started with the right wrist, which had been a bit more damaged than the left one, and elevated it carefully looking at the wound.

“This is _incredible_!” His blue eyes lifted questioningly. “I’ve not quite seen wounds this extensive, heal this quickly before.” He then grabbed a cylinder pointed object from his medical scrubs and gently poked each of Faith’s finger in succession, asking her if she felt the sensation and to wiggle them carefully. 

Then he placed new bandages and went to check on the left wrist, and hissed. 

It was nearly healed. 

“This shouldn’t be possible.” He whispered in confusion, his eyes searching carefully and then re-administering the tests before placing a new dressing on the left wrist. 

He sat back with a thoughtful frown. 

“Miss Lehane, I’ll admit I’ve only ever seen something somewhat like this once before...many years ago in New York.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I treated a woman at a medical clinic during my medical school residency. She had some interesting wounds and had lost a lot of blood. She came in late one night while I was on duty and I treated her. When I checked on her the next day, her wounds looked days old. She told me it was something she’d inherited, and I never saw her come back for a follow-up despite my recommendation.”

Faith bit her lip and side-eyed Bruce, who’s expression was stoically passive. 

“Did she have a name?” She asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Miss Lehane. Patient, doctor confidentiality.”

Glancing away briefly, she then looked back and questioned seriously, “What year was this?”

“It was at the end of my first year of medical school residency. 1977.”

“Was she black?”

“Yes, but _how_ did you know that?”

Bruce leant forward, as he immediately made the connection that Faith knew who this woman was. 

“Was her name, Nikki? Nikki Wood?”

Dr. Fielding sat back utterly dumbfounded and shook his head. “I don’t understand how you could’ve known that.”

“It’s a really long story, Doc. And trust me when I tell you, it doesn’t have a happy ending. At least, it didn’t for Nikki or her son.”

“You knew her son?”

“Yes, his name’s Robin Wood.”

“Ah, that explains how you knew her name, but not how you both have this kind of healing gift.”

“More like a curse.” She grinned. “And trust me, Doc. Sometimes it’s better not knowing, than the other way around. I would appreciate it if you could keep this confidential. I know that whole Doc-patient thing is key, but I’d rather not have any of the nurses coming in here checking up on my healing and doing the big speculation on the why?”

The man glanced over at Bruce Wayne, who was eyeing him almost threateningly and Dr. Fielding swallowed heavily, nodding in acquiescence.

“Well, I’m thinking that might be best too. You should be able to go home today. I’ll get started on the discharge paperwork.”

“That’s great!”

Dr. Fielding said his goodbyes and promised to stop by once more before she was sent home. After he was gone, Bruce decided to speak up. 

“I take it Nikki was your ex’s mom?”

“Yep.”

“She had a kid while she was a Slayer?”

“Before she got the call.”

“Oh. How did she die?”

“Spike.” Bruce jerked back and she sighed. “Before he got his soul back. He used to make it a point to find the Slayer and kill her. He’s killed two that I know of, and his former vampire partner Drusilla—killed the Slayer, Kendra Young...my predecessor.”

“How many Slayers are there now, do you know?”

“Honestly, I don’t have a clue. Giles is sending out Watcher’s all the time to find them and train them. Willow might have a better idea, as she can sense our power since she’s the one who activated the Scythe.”

“Makes sense, I suppose.”

“Does it? Cause I gotta tell you, Wayne...there are some days not much does.”

He chuckled deeply at that. “True enough. I brought you some lunch. Alfred made some homemade potato and leek soup. I think there’s some fresh, French rolls and orange juice in the bag too.”

She quickly opened the offering, her mouth watering and Bruce smiled when he heard her stomach rumbling. 

She moaned out in bliss at the first spoonful, causing him to smirk. 

“Save those noises for when we get home, Gorgeous.”

“Bite me, Wayne. I’m hungry and this is _good_.”

“I’ll let Alfred know.”

She just hummed happily, before devouring the food and drink, then sat back with a self-satisfied smile when she was done. 

“How’s the nausea?”

“Comes and goes,” she admitted, “I lost a lot of blood, and I do still feel a bit drained but I’m sure I’ll be back to fighting shape in no time at all.”

He just hummed noncommittally, but didn’t comment because as much as he knew Faith could take care of herself, he wasn’t especially thrilled with the prospect of her going out and patrolling anytime soon. 

“You have that face.”

“What face?” He demanded. 

“The ‘ _I’m not happy’_ face.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. How about we make a deal?”

“Which is?”

“If you have a concern, share it. Don’t let it fester and grow. It’s only going to piss us both off because we both have a short fuse, and little patience.”

“ _How do you do that?_ ”

“You’re easy to read, despite what you might like to think about yourself.” She mocked sassily. “But really, I’m probably just going to be chill for a bit. If there’s a chance going out and Slaying might aggravate me losing our baby, I’m not going to take that risk. Is that what you were wondering?”

“Yes.” He sighed in relief. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because, I don’t want to push you, Gorgeous. You know your powers better than I do.”

“Probably,” she quipped and then her face morphed into a sly smirk. “Should I ask the poor Doc about having sex?”

He coughed, and then snorted in amusement. “Only if you plan on _not abstaining_.”

“Jerk.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“I can’t wait to bail on this place. I hate hospitals.”

“Not my favorite, either.” He replied, and then frowned when Faith’s phone rang. She grabbed it before he could see the caller ID and her eyes widened before she answered the phone hesitantly. 

“Hello?”

“Privet, Nickolaevna.” The deep, Russian voice said in amusement. “YA slyshal ty byl zanyat.” 

(Hello, Nickolaevna...I hear you have been busy)

“Eto bylo to, s chem ya ne mog spravit'sya.” 

(It was nothing I couldn’t handle)

Bruce mouthed silently, “Vladim?”

She nodded. 

“YA prosto pozvonil, chtoby proverit' tebya.” 

(I just called to check up on you)

“Kak ty dumayesh'. Slukhi o moyey konchine sil'no preuvelicheny. Chtoby izbavit'sya ot menya, nuzhno nechto bol'sheye, chem prosto sumasshedshiy psikhopat. YA dolzhen izvinit'sya?”

(How thoughtful of you. Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. It takes more than a psychotic madman to get rid of me. Should I apologize?)

Bruce snickered, and he could hear Vladim chuckling deeply on the other end of the line. 

“Eto bylo by pustoy tratoy, moya dorogaya. YA tak nadeyus' na vashe ofitsial'noye znakomstvo.”

(That would be a waste, my Dear. I am so looking forward to making your formal acquaintance)

“Vy yavno chto-to imeyete v vidu, da?”

(You obviously have something in mind, yes?)

“No konechno! Den' yedinstva provoditsya kazhdyy noyabr', i v etom godu ya budu provodit' gosudarstvennyy uzhin. YA byl by tak blagodaren, yesli by vy prisoyedinilis' ko mne!”

(But of course! Unity Day is held every November and this year I will be hosting a State Dinner. I would be so gratified if you could join me!)

She paused and did the mental math in her head. She would be around twenty weeks then. 

“Yest' problema?” Vladim asked seriously. 

(Is there a problem?) 

“Eto nemnogo nelovko?”

(This is kinda awkward?)

She put her hand over the receiver and whispered what Vladim was asking, and Bruce’s eyes widened before he nodded slowly. 

“If you think it’s a good idea, you might want to tell him? You might be showing by then?”

“Most people don’t mention anything until the first trimester is over though?”

“ _Nickolaevna_?”

“Prostite, Vladim. Delo v tom, chto ya tol'ko chto uznala, chto beremenna, i moy pervyy trimestr yeshche rano. So vsem, chto tol'ko chto proizoshlo, ya prosto ochen' ostorozhen?”

(Sorry, Vladim. It's that I have just found out I'm pregnant and its still early in my first trimester. With everything that has just happened, I'm just being extra careful?)

There was a dead silence on the other end, before Vladim spoke again and his voice held a tone she didn’t recognize. 

“Eto Bryus Ueyn otets?”

(Is this Bruce Wayne, the Father?)

“Da on.”

(Yes he is)

“On seychas s toboy?”

(He is there with you now?)

“Da on.”

“YA khochu pogovorit' s nim seychas.”

(I wish to speak with him, now)

She paled, as she definitely recognized that tone of voice. 

It was _not_ a request. 

She winced, handing over her phone to Bruce while mouthing, ‘ _He wants to talk you you?’_ and helplessly shrugging her shoulders in defeat. 

Bruce’s lips flattened as he took the phone, taking in a deep breath before he said, “Premier?”

Their conversation was fast and furious. Vladim was speaking in English now, and whatever he was saying, was making Bruce clearly uncomfortable as he was only answering in single syllable words. After about ten minutes, he handed the phone back and then his phone dinged and he said stiffly, “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay?”

She watched Bruce leave before she got back on the phone and hissed out in English, “What did you say to him, you big bully? He looked green!”

Vladim chuckled and replied truthfully, “No one but you, my dearest Nickolayevna, would ever seek to address me after such a fashion. But no matter, I only said what needed to be said. No more, no less.”

“That’s just a bunch of cryptic speak.”

Another chuckle sounded over the line, but all Vlad clarified was, “Take care and I will call in a few weeks. Once you’re out of the woods, we can discuss the particulars of your visit. Yes?”

“Do I get a vote?”

“You are _utterly_ precious. Do you want an honest answer?”

“No. Something tells me you’d find a way to dance around ‘ _nyet_ ’ like a _kaznakovi_.”

A booming laugh echoed in her ear, and she grinned, shaking her head in amusement. 

“I do have something for you as well. A gift if you will. So if nothing else, perhaps curiosity will entice you to come and visit your Motherland and see what we have to offer.”

“Only if I can have Smetannik,” she parlayed, “My babushka made it every year for my birthday until she passed away.”

“Consider it done, My Dear.”

“Cool!”

Another soft huff of mirth sounded and then Vladim said his goodbyes. 

When she hung up, she craned her neck to see if Bruce was outside her room and then she sent out her senses but he wasn’t anywhere where she could feel his presence. 

When he didn’t return after an hour had passed, she was starting to panic a bit. 

After thirty more minutes, she was getting pissed. 

When Dr. Fielding came in at a bit before two, with her discharge paperwork, she texted Bruce but he didn’t respond. 

She sighed, filling out the forms and then signed everything, before getting up to get dressed in her street clothes. As she was putting on her boots, she felt her chest constricting with emotion and every insecure thought came flooding back tenfold. 

“ _Fuck this_!” She bit out, wiping the reluctant tears from her eyes. 

She was just waiting on the nurse to come in with her paperwork, when a knock sounded on her door. When she glanced up, with a hopeful expression on her face, the second her brain registered who it was, she felt her stomach swoop with bitter disappointment. 

“Hey!”

“Hi John? Uhm, not to be rude, but how did you get back here?”

“I have my ways.” He said with a wink. “You look ready to go?”

“Yeah. Just waiting on the nurse.” She glanced down and then asked softly, “Have you seen Bruce anywhere?”

“Yeah, I think he was just leaving.”

“What?” She bit out. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Why?”

“No reason.”

John didn’t look like he believed her, but to his credit he didn’t say anything. 

The nurse came in the room at that moment, with her discharge wheelchair. 

“Here we are, Miss Lehane.”

“Do I have to?”

“It’s policy.”

“Great.”

She plopped down in the offensive contraption, and allowed the nurse to wheel her down a private corridor to a service elevator. 

“Where are we going?”

“Sorry, Miss Lehane, but Mr. Wayne asked me to take you out the back entrance. He’s waiting there. He’s been dealing with the press for the past two hours. Apparently, one of the reporters from the Times tried to break into the hospital and Mr. Wayne was alerted. I’m afraid the police were called, and the man in question was taken away.”

“Oh!” She suddenly felt horrible for doubting Bruce. 

Once they’d reached the back loading dock, she felt her chest release when she saw Bruce standing there, looking fierce as he glared at John Daggett. His expression softened noticeably when he took her in. 

“Hey, Gorgeous. Sorry I didn’t respond to your text, but I was in with the Hospital Administrator and Commissioner Gordon.”

“It’s fine.” She sighed softly, as Bruce helped her out of her wheelchair and nodded politely to the nurse. 

“Thank you for bringing Faith here.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Wayne.” She handed over a small bag with a few items. “Dr. Fielding wanted me to pass these along to you. There’s a starter kit of prenatal vitamins, along with a prescription for more. If you need something for the pain, you can take acetaminophen, and there’s a phone number to schedule a follow up visit in two weeks. If you have any symptoms like dizziness, uncontrolled vomiting or bleeding, please call the number on the top of the paper.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

The nurse nodded to them all and went back inside, while Bruce shut Faith’s door—then gave John a dubious look. 

“Was there something else you _needed_ , John?”

“Actually, Wayne, I needed to speak with you both. Are you heading back to Faith’s place?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, I’ll be by soon.”

“This can’t wait?”

“No, I’m afraid it can’t.”

“Perhaps you could tell me what this is about?”

“I’d prefer to have this conversation in private.”

“Fine.”

Bruce went around the car and didn’t bother acknowledging the other man, before he took off back for Gotham Towers.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know, but he’s stopping by because apparently, he needs to speak with us.”

“That doesn’t sound ominous.”

“Nothing with John is ever simple.” Bruce griped, speeding down the expressway. 

It was about twenty minutes later when Faith found herself walking back into her apartment. When she got inside, it was to the relieved face of her best friend. She rushed over to Angel, and felt herself being lifted into strong arms. 

“You look horrible.” He whispered, and she plopped down, smacking the vampire’s chest in mock anger. 

“Thanks. Just for that you can wait with Bruce, while I go and take a shower.”

“Fine.” Angel snarked, and watched with a fond smirk as Faith sashayed into her bedroom. When she was gone, he turned brightened yellow eyes to Wayne and said icily, “ _Sit_.”

Bruce immediately took a seat across from the vampire, who appeared rather irritated. 

“Willow _told_ me what happened.”

“I’d figured someone would.”

“Should I _pummel_ you now?”

“There might be a line.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “Buffy slapped me, a man named John Daggett...who is on his way here as we speak, and has an unhealthy obsession with Faith—slugged me. I was in a roundabout way, threatened by the Premier of Russia today, and Faith has promised to enact her own form of punishment once she’s feeling more herself.”

Angel quirked a grin as he sat back pleased. “I _like_ you, Wayne. I think that you have what it takes to keep our Faith on her toes and keep her in line. However, her heart is a very fragile thing. Metaphorically, she bruises easily but you’d never know it in the traditional sense. She just becomes withdrawn and reclusive.”

“I did see a bit of that, and I tend to do the same thing. I’ll admit, it’s not easy to move out of my comfort zone—but for Faith, I’m willing to try my hardest to be what she needs.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to ruin you.”

He bowed his head at the unsubtle threat, knowing that if there was someone who could make good on that threat, it was the vampire sitting across from him. 

They were interrupted by a brief knock at the door. 

He went to stand up to answer it, but Angel shook his head and decided to do the honors himself. He almost snorted out a guffaw when he saw John Daggett’s face upon seeing Angel standing there. 

“Mr. Daggett, I presume?”

“Yes?” The man nodded. “Do I know you?”

“No,” Angel replied as he waved him inside, “I’m a friend of Faith’s. Angel.”

“How do you know Faith?”

Angel smirked and replied evenly, “We go way back.”

John looked over at Bruce, who just eyed him impassively. Angel however, offered him a seat and something to drink. 

“I’m good, thank you.”

“What brings you here, Mr. Daggett?”

“Oh, please call me John?” Angel nodded, so Daggett went on. “Actually, I’m really here to see Faith.”

“Big surprise.” Bruce muttered, earning a glare from John and an even deeper smirk from Angel.

Angel perked up, as his vampire hearing let him know Faith was about to emerge from her bedroom. He stood up and walked over just as she came out. She grinned up at him and quipped, “Some days, I think your hearing is better than mine.”

“It is.” Angel bantered back. “You thirsty?”

“OJ?”

“I think I might’ve freshly squeezed some just for you.”

She kissed his cheek and then said sincerely, “You’re the best.”

The vampire rolled his eyes but settled her next to Bruce before he went to get the juice. Daggett watched the tall young man pour the juice and bring it over to Faith. It was clear they knew each other well, but there didn’t seem to be a romantic connection. 

It was more platonic...

... _familial_...

“That’s good.” She hummed happily, before finishing the glass. “Thanks, bro.”

“Shut up, you little shit.” Angel snarked. “And if you ever volunteer yourself as a hostage again, I’m so going to kick your ass myself.”

She stuck out her tongue and pouted, while Bruce just chucked—pulling her into his side affectionately.

“I’m sorry,” John piped in, “but how do you two know each other?”

“Angel is my brother from another mother.” She clarified cheekily. “That is, when we haven’t been actively trying to kill each other.”

“It was only what, maybe three times? And in my defense, you did try to kill me first.”

“Whatever, the last time I wasn’t even trying that hard. I was just trying to get you to bite me.”

John appeared completely flummoxed and even Bruce was a little confused as he stated, “I’m sure that’s a riveting story for another time, but John was just about to share with us why he’s here, right John?”

“No need to be rude, old chap.”

He rolled his eyes, while Faith muttered, “He’s moody and Angel is broody. Hey! I could get a t-shirt with both your likenesses on it. Kinda like the seven dwarfs? Moody and Broody.”

“Fuck you, Faith.” Angel bit back fondly, while Bruce sniggered softly. 

“Five by five. How’s Spike?”

“ _Annoying_.”

“Did you ever discover if ‘ _pathological idiot_ ’ was a real condition or not?”

Angel’s expression lifted, while Bruce shook his head at Faith’s quick wit. 

“In Spike’s case, it is.”

“Does he still call you a ‘ _drama queen’_?”

“Yes. But you already know that.”

“I miss hanging with you two. It’s like Cheech and Chong...”

“...Starsky and Hutch...”

“...Riggs and Murtaugh?” 

“Han Solo and Chewbacca.” 

“Which one of you is Chewy?”

“ _Please_...” Angel snorted.

“Did you both ever figure out the answer to that really important debate you two were having?”

“Faith...”

“Oh, _come on_! You can’t mean to tell me you’re both still arguing about it, how many years later? Four?”

“It’s a plausible scenario!”

“Oh, right!” She snorted and then broke down in hysterical giggles as she pointed her finger accusingly at Angel, while Bruce and John just watched on with fond amusement. 

“Sounds serious.” Bruce deadpanned.

Faith’s eyes widened as she shook her head in warning, but Angel just lifted his hand and blurted out, “See? I’m sure Spike and I aren’t the only ones who’ve ever asked that particular philosophical question.”

“Yeah, pretty sure you are.”

Angel huffed as he sat back, arms folded and brooding—while she grinned widely at him. John, who seemed more bemused that anything, decided to ask...

“What question?”

“It’s nothing.” Angel pouted. 

“It’s obviously not nothing, to get Faith laughing like that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this.”

“Because you aren’t part of her life, John!” Bruce growled, while she just hushed them both. She then turned to Angel and said impishly, “You wanna do the honors, or should I?”

Angel huffed again, but then waved his hands in the air like ‘ _fine_ ’ and said, “If cavemen and astronauts got into a fight, who would win?”

Faith threw her head back and roared, while Bruce and John just sat there stunned. 

“I’m _sorry_?” Bruce said after a moment, “But this is the great philosophical question of our time?”

“It is!” She faux-whispered behind her hand. 

John too, seemed dumbfounded as his brow scrunched in confusion. “Do the astronauts have weapons?”

“No.” Angel clarified, and she shook her head and bit her lip hard from losing it completely. 

“Astronauts.” Bruce said finally, and Angel shot his hand out in agreement...nodding vigorously...

...and she completely lost her shit...

All three men watched her as she was literally in tears, laughing so hard at how ridiculous men were. 

“Cavemen, Wayne. No, wait?” John paused, “Do the cavemen have weapons?”

“No.” Angel replied and John nodded before he said simply, “As much as I hate to agree with Wayne on anything, I’m going to have to amend my original answer, and go with Astronauts.”

She just shook her head, while Angel seemed really pleased. A split second later, a disgruntled British voice came over Faith’s speaker phone and bit out caustically, “You’re a bloody wanker, Angel. Everyone knows that cavemen would win.”

Angel’s face registered his surprise, before he pointed a warning finger in her direction. 

“Seems your outvoted, Spike.”

“Bloody namby-pamby ponces.”

Angel rolled his eyes, while she continued to grin even wider.

“How you feeling, Slayer? I’d heard you almost got chicken-fried fricasseed.”

“Shut it, Spike.” She bantered back good-naturedly. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, well...do me a favor and keep Angel there for a while? The office has been rather nice with him NOT around.”

“ _Get out of my office, Spike!_ ”

“Make me.”

“Fucking nightmare.” Angel growled. “When I get back...”

“Yeah, yeah... _drama queen._ ”

And the line went dead. 

She clicked off her phone and sat back with a smug grin plastered on her pretty face. 

“You know? You’d think after 200 plus years, you’d both try to at least pretend to get along?”

“I’m sorry,” John bit out, “how long?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Her expression turned into her predatory one that Bruce knew so well, and he smirked inwardly. “Bruce mentioned he might’ve shared a few things with you the other night about his secret identity, and mine.”

“Yes. He did.”

“So, do you have any questions?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, I’ve never heard of what a Slayer is. And I’ve never seen anything to make me believe vampires are real either.”

She side-eyed Angel and in a flash, his countenance went from handsome to mottled—causing John to jump up in shock. 

“You’re a...”

“Vampire.” Angel’s face shifted back to normal. “Angel, also once known as Angelus. The Scourge of Europe. I do have a soul now. For about 100 years. I’m about 300 years old. Faith is like a sister to me. If you betray her, I’ll drain you dry. Any questions?”

John glanced over at Faith, who was watching him with a feral gleam in her eye and he snorted out a laugh. 

“None. Got it. Not to worry, as I have no plans to spill my guts about _anything_ ,” He then looked over at Wayne and finished snappily, “not even about you. I still can’t believe you’re the Batman. Doesn’t exactly fit with what I know of you, Wayne.”

“You don’t know me, John. In fact, I think it’s fairly accurate to say that only a handful of people truly do.”

Daggett turned back to Faith, and asked seriously, “This is why you chose him, isn’t it?”

Not even pretending to misunderstand what John was asking her, all she said was, “ _Yes_.”

“Huh?” Shaking his head, John had to admit it made sense in a fucked up way. “I suppose I should respect that.”

“Do you?” Bruce demanded.

“Seems I’m outvoted.” He prevaricated easily.

Before Bruce could respond accordingly, Buffy barged in with Rona, saying...

“Faith, Bruce called and said you...” She was brought up short when she saw who was sitting there, looking right at home. 

“Angel?”

“Hey, Buffy.”

Faith nudged Bruce and whispered, “ _Awkward_.”

Both of them glared at Faith simultaneously, but all the brunette replied with was, “What’s up, B?”

“The girls are on their way up with Vi. We have a serious problem.”


	32. Chosen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Violet succumbs to the effects of Crane’s drug, Faith realizes just how they might save her.

While Buffy’s definition of ‘ _serious_ ’ was normally a bit more sedate than her own, when Violet was brought in looking like she was going through a severe detox, sweating and shaking like a leaf, her eyes bloodshot and her skin looking pale and sallow—Faith had to readjust her Buffy definitions.

“ _What the fuck?”_ She rushed over, and took Violet from Eve and Kennedy. “How long has this been going on?”

“The past 36 hours it’s gotten steadily worse.”

She turned to Willow and demanded, “Magic can’t help?”

“No, whatever this is, Faith—my magic isn’t helping much. It will alleviate the symptoms temporarily, but then it comes back worse after about an hour.”

“Shit.”

“Faith...”

Violet’s voice was raspy, as she shivered uncontrollably. 

“I _know_ , kid. I promise, we’re gonna figure this out.”

Leading Violet over to the couch, Faith wrapped her up in a blanket, pushing her sweat-soaked hair out of her face. 

“It _hurts_...” Violet hissed.

“I know.” She whispered, and then gasped when she noticed Violet’s arms. “She’s been scratching at herself?”

“Yes,” Buffy sighed. “We’ve tried wrapping it, restraints—but she just tears through everything.”

Glancing over at Bruce helplessly, she didn’t know what to do, but he seemed contemplative. 

“Faith? You’d mentioned the Joker had told you he sent Crane to make contact and administer Violet with some kind of drug?”

“That’s what the creep said.”

Bruce stepped out of the room and then took out his phone and pressed #2. 

Lucius picked up on the first ring. 

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Mr. Fox. I need you to come to Faith’s apartment to take a blood sample and have it analyzed.”

“On whom, Sir?”

“Miss Violet. She’s been poisoned with one of Crane’s drugs. It may be something similar to what I was targeted with, as she’s quite ill with similar symptoms.”

“I can be there within the hour.”

“Do you think the antidote you made for me might work? I know we still have some synthesized.”

“I’m afraid until I know exactly what kind of protein receptor compound we’re dealing with, it might be wise to wait. It will take me a few hours to run the tests.”

“Fine. I’ll see you in a few.”

He hung up and walked back into the living room, sitting back down in his original spot. 

“Lucius is on his way. He’s going to sample her blood and see if he can isolate the compound. If he can, he might be able to generate an antidote.”

Faith nodded, while John just gave him a curious look. 

“Fox knows about your nighttime escapades?”

He didn’t reply, and John didn’t need him to. He just shook his head in amazement.

“Detox can last hours to days depending on the severity of the drug,” John offered. “Shit.”

“What.” 

“Did you say that Crane and the Joker were using the drug to control her mind?”

“Yes!” Faith replied, “Why?”

“Daggett Industries has been working with Gentex Pharmaceuticals to try and counteract the drug called scopolamine. Do you know of it?”

“I’ve heard of it.” Bruce spoke up with a frown. “It’s a derivative from the nightshade plant. It’s said that it can take away free will.”

“It can, in certain dosages. The plant itself is found in Central America and in toxic doses, it can cause very similar symptoms to what Miss Violet is experiencing.”

“And it sounds just like the kind of drug Crane would use.” Bruce bit out. 

“There’s no antidote for it to my knowledge.” Daggett said at last. “We’ve been trying for the last year to procure one. Normally in very small doses it can treat motion sickness and can be used preoperatively to prevent nausea, but if given in larger doses or over longer periods of time it can open a person up to suggestion or completely take away free will. The weird thing is the amnesia effects. When on the drug, the person has no idea they’re susceptible to its effects. But how were they administering it? It’s something that has to be given at regular intervals.”

“Shit.” Faith gritted out, as Violet started to shake violently, her body convulsing like she was having a seizure. 

The young Slayer’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and Faith went to hold her down, and Buffy coming over with Rona and the three of them, clamped down on Violet’s body as her muscles all tensed and then shook. 

“What do we do?” Rona cried. 

The shaking calmed down after a few minutes, and Faith held Violet to her body, rocking her gently and talking soothingly to her. Bruce went into the bathroom and grabbed a few towels, and then fetched some cool water in a small basin bowl, bringing it over and helping Faith clean off the blood from where Violet had bit through her tongue. 

When she’d finally settled, everyone glanced at each other questioningly. 

Then Rona said, “Violet only takes birth control and some holistic vitamins brought with her from Chicago.”

“Has she taken either of those in the last few days?” Buffy queried and Rona shrugged. 

“The birth control is given in a shot.”

“The one every three months?” Daggett clarified and Rona nodded. “Then it wouldn’t be that. It has to be the vitamins.”

“Did she get them through a doctor?” Buffy asked. 

“Dunno where she got them, to be honest.” Rona admitted. 

“When I find out who gave them to her, I’m going to beat them to a pulp.” Faith snarled, and Buffy hummed in agreement. 

It was another fifteen minutes before Lucius arrived, and Willow was able to magically sedate Violet while he took the blood samples. Bruce shared Daggett’s theory about what kind of drug they might be dealing with, and Lucius seemed concerned but promised he’d try to see what, if anything, he could find out. 

“I should have something in a few hours, Mr. Wayne.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fox.”

When the man left, Faith and Rona grabbed some more cold water and towels, as Vi’s body temperature was beginning to elevate.

“Do you think Crane would know?”

“Maybe, but since he wasn’t inoculated against his own weaponized hallucinogen, I tend to think the chance is unlikely.”

“That was you?” Daggett smirked. 

“He went after Rachel and nearly destroyed her mind with a large dose of that stuff. So, I just returned the favor. Apparently, he must’ve been building up a tolerance to his own weaponized form, because it didn’t stop him from going out there and creating more laboratory drugs.”

“I should’ve let Baba and Yaga maul Crane, like they did with the Chechen.” Faith snipped caustically. 

“Baba and Yaga?” John asked, with a lifted grin. 

“They were the Chechen’s dogs—they’re mine now. They liked me better.”

Buffy snorted. “That’s cause you’re a bitchy Alpha and they could sense it.”

“Takes one to know one, B.”

“And here we go!” Angel replied shortly. “Please spare all of us the caustic and thinly-veiled barbs. I don’t think my poor heart can take it.”

“ _You don’t have a heart_.” Buffy replied dispassionately.

Angel cocked his head at that comment, but just replied evenly, “That’s a low blow even for you, Buffy.”

“True though,” she fake-grinned brightly, “how’s Wolfram and Hart? Are you and Spike still driving each other crazy?”

“Yes.” Faith answered for Angel, and earned a mocking lifted eyebrow for her troubles. 

“You work for Wolfram and Hart?” Daggett inquired curiously, but Angel shook his head, replying dismissively, “I _run_ it.”

“Oh.” John hummed thoughtfully, as he sat back feeling chastised and not knowing why.

“Not that this isn’t all just _so_ interesting,” Kennedy groused, folding her arms in irritation, “but what are we gonna do about Vi?”

“I don’t know that we can do anything, Kennedy.” Buffy answered, her voice holding a twinge of defeat. “We don’t even know how long she’s been on this stuff.” The blonde Slayer glanced over at Daggett and asked seriously, “Can being on this stuff over a long period of time be potentially fatal?”

“I honestly don’t know.” John admitted, his tone apologetic. “There’s still so much we don’t know about how it works from a biological end. That’s why my company was trying to research it.”

“Why?” Buffy questioned, “Why would your company be interested in a drug like this?”

John’s expression fell for a split second and then closed down. He shook his head in frustration before he said in a deadened tone, “My nephew about two years ago, was raped. When the toxicology report came back, scopolamine was in his system. He was at a frat party, and had no memory of that night. He’s been in counseling ever since, and I’ve been trying to find out who did this to him.”

“I’m so sorry,” Buffy offered softly, “how have you researched it?”

“I have all the names of the guys in his fraternity, as well as a fairly comprehensive list of who was there that night. I had my investigators do full backgrounds on all of them, but so far the few leads I’ve gotten, have come up empty. So, I decided to go the research route. If I can develop an antidote...”

“No, I get it.” Buffy smiled softly and nodded, while everyone else just seemed to be both stunned and impressed equally. Even Bruce had to admit, he didn’t know John Daggett had that kind of emotional depth to him. 

Faith kept tending to Violet as she considered all the possibilities, and when her eyes hit on her wrists, she gasped out softly. 

_“What?”_ Buffy said silently into her mind. 

Faith made eye contact, and the two of them had their own little private confab. Bruce, who’d heard Faith’s surprised sound, glanced between she and Buffy and smirked. 

They were talking telepathically and then Willow seemed to be included in the discussion. 

Which was outed by Kennedy. 

“Red, I _hate_ it when you use the mind Magic’s.”

Willow broke eye contact with Faith, turned to her partner and glared. 

“You’re being ridiculous right now.”

“Mind Magic’s?” Daggett wondered aloud, as he glanced around the room with interest. When no one spoke up, he turned to Wayne and could tell that whatever it was, Gotham’s Prince knew what was going on. “Okay? I feel like I should’ve got that obscure reference, but don’t mind me?”

Buffy giggled softly, causing Angel to brood as he sat back in his chair petulantly. 

“Sorry.” Buffy waved a hand blithely, and explained, “Faith, Willow and I are telepathic.”

“ _What?!”_ John paled slightly, “Is that even possible?”

“Apparently.” Faith smirked, causing Bruce to shake his head at her fondly. 

“What was the big discussion.” Rona demanded harshly, backtracking a bit when Faith sent her a measured look. 

“I was thinking Slayer powers can heal physical stuff a lot faster, right?” She held up her wrist and then took off the left bandage, which was nearly healed and then pointed down to Violet’s wounds which were still raw and oozing. John’s eyes widened in wonder, while everyone else in the room nodded in agreement. “So why isn’t it helping Violet here? It’s because for some reason, the drug is preventing her ability to heal herself. It’s preventing her from drawing on her Slayer powers...Fucking hell!”

“What?”

“That’s how they were able to keep her there drugged for so long in the warehouse!” She stood up in anger as she finally put the final pieces together. “This was never just about the mind control...that was just a nice side benefit!”

Buffy gasped and shook her head. “That’s not possible, Faith!”

“What’s not?” Rona cried. 

“This drug that Crane was developing, he was doing it for the Joker. The Joker knew I was a Slayer and Buffy was too. He took Violet to experiment on her, to see not only if the drug he’d created was strong enough to control a Slayer, but to counteract their powers too.”

The silence that pervaded the room was deafening as they all took in that horrific truth. 

“Then in theory,” Bruce piped in, “it will, in all likelihood...”

“Kill her.” Faith finished, her heart breaking as she glanced down at Violet—who was just starting to stir again. 

“The more her body tries to fight it off...” Buffy sighed in defeat, “the worse it gets?”

“She doesn’t have enough power alone to pull herself out of this?” Eve asked hesitantly, and Faith shook her head before she stumbled back in stark realization. 

“Buffy? We can save her.”

“How?”

“The Scythe.” 

They both immediately turned to Willow, who’s shoulders deflated in understanding. 

“It could work.”

“What could work?” Bruce challenged. 

“Willow used the power of the scythe to activate all the potential Slayers back in 2003. If we use it again,” Faith explained, “use the power of those of us here? We might be able to purge whatever is happening to Vi and give her the ability to heal herself.”

“It’s worth a shot.” Rona nodded, and all the other girls replied in kind. 

“Call it forth, Will.”

Willow started chanting and held out her hands in front of her, and like magic, the Slayer Scythe appeared in the ether. Buffy took it and the force of its power radiated throughout the room, as if it sensed what needed to be done. 

“We need to make a circle,” Willow offered, and led the other girls to clear the couches to the sides of the room, while Bruce lifted up Violet and set her in the center. Buffy grabbed a few candles, silently asking Willow how to set them up around the circle. When everything was in its place, Willow knelt with the Scythe in front of her while Buffy knelt to her left and Faith to her right. 

“You both will need to touch the Scythe from either side, Rona? You’re on Faith’s right, and Kennedy, you’ll be on Buffy’s left. Everyone else take a spot next to the person you feel the strongest connection to.”

It only took a few moments for each Slayer to find their designated place. When everyone nodded to signal they were ready, Willow began to chant. 

Bruce, Angel and John stood back...all of them watching on quietly.

“ _Oh, my Goddess!”_

The Scythe activated and its power shot out, enveloping Buffy a split second before Faith...then Bruce watched as each Slayer was surrounded in succession. 

“It’s how they would’ve been called, had things had gone as destined.” Angel murmured. 

Kennedy followed Faith...then Rona was next, then Colleen, Shannon followed and so on to Eve, Amanda, Chao Ahn, Dominique with Violet being the final call. 

“ _Fuck me.”_ John whispered in wonder, as both Bruce and Angel nodded in agreement. 

And then something unexpected happened. A portal like mist opened above the circle of Slayers and a scene emerged, causing Angel to hiss out a stunned, “That’s Buffy’s home. In Sunnydale.”

Bruce noticed that the room was filled with at least thirty to forty potentials. Many of whom he didn’t recognize. Faith had mentioned that the ones here in this room had survived the fight against the evil that had taken root in Sunnydale, which meant that the rest of them likely hadn’t. His heart fell at that thought. 

They all looked so young, and scared. Many of them were injured and bandaged too. 

Then Buffy spoke...

“ _ **I hate this. I hate being here. I hate that you have to be here. I hate that there’s evil. That I was Chosen to fight it. I wish a whole lot of the time, that I hadn’t been.” As she moved through the room, Bruce’s breath caught on the sight of Faith, looking confident and fierce as always. “I know a lot of you wish I hadn’t been either.”**_

All three men could see the defeated looks from the girls around the room, staring at each other in agreement at Buffy’s words. 

“ ** _This isn’t about wishes. This is about choices. I believe that we can beat this evil...not when it comes, not when it’s army is ready...now! Tomorrow morning, I’m opening the seal. I’m going down into the hell mouth and I am finishing this once and for all! Right now, you’re asking yourself what makes this different? What makes us anything more than a bunch of girls being picked off one by one. It’s true. None of you have the power that Faith and I, do.”_**

Buffy glanced over at Faith, and she nodded subtly in support. 

“ _ **So here’s the part where you make a choice. What if you could have that power...Now? In every generation one Slayer is born, because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule. They were powerful men, this woman,” pointing to Willow, “is more powerful than all of them combined. So I say we change the rule. I say my power, should be our power.”**_

The scene shifted suddenly into a large cavern underneath the earth as each girl was given the call, and Bruce could see the manifestation of the Slayers power go through them all, as Buffy’s voice continued...

“ _ **Tomorrow Willow will use the essence of the Scythe to change our destiny. From now on, every girl in the world who might be a Slayer...will be a Slayer. Every girl who could have the power, will have the power. Can stand up—Will. Stand. Up. Slayers...every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?”**_

Bruce’s eyes widened in horror as he took in the hordes of vampires below, coming right for the small group of Slayers. He could see the clear resolve on Faith’s face and then he heard Violet’s words...

“ _These guys, are dust...”_

And he smiled. 

Then the magic swelled through Violet, as her body lifted into the air and then in a flash, the spell ended and all in the entire circle breathed as one, while Willow just grinned and piped up, “That was nifty!”

Angel chuckled and Faith nudged Willow, silently asking if it was okay to break the circle—and Willow nodded. Both Buffy and she moved over carefully—Buffy at Violet’s feet and Faith cradling Vi’s head in her hands. She checked her pulse and then smiled when she lifted Violet’s arms and noticed her wounds were now healed. She tore off her own bandages and chuckled, her gaze lifting to Bruce, and he winked at her. 

“Faith?”

Quickly looking back down, Faith’s face beamed as Violet’s eyes opened clear and bright. 

“Hey, kid. You gave us all a scare.”

“What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“I’m not sure? It’s just all so jumbled.”

“That’s okay. We will figure it out, but I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

“Me too. It’s been so dark lately.” 

“I know, Vi.” Faith ran a soothing hair through her red locks. “But things are definitely looking up.”

Rona moved over and Violet smiled at her best friend. “Hey, Vi.”

“Hey, Rona.”

Bruce walked over then and knelt down, taking Violet into his arms and silently following Faith into her bedroom. Buffy stood up and grabbed the Scythe, handing it to Willow and telling her to return it to its proper safe place. 

Which the witch did. 

“Good job, everyone.” Buddy said proudly. “I know I never got much of a chance to say this after everything that happened in Sunnydale, but I’m proud of you all for fighting so hard and taking care of each other.”

All the girls nodded and smiled at each other, and then Colleen said, “I’m hungry. Can we go get some pizza now?”

“Sounds good.” Buffy replied. “Why don’t we head out and give Violet a chance to have some quiet time.”

“Bring back some for me, though.” Rona requested loudly, “I’m staying here. Oh shit! I need to go upstairs and get Faith’s dogs. I left them with Mr. Pennyworth.”

Everyone watched Rona dash out of the room as John spoke up.

“How about I join you?” He offered kindly, “My treat. I know the best place in Gotham for pizza.”

“Cool!” Kennedy patted the man on the back, causing him to chuckle as Buffy smiled shyly. 

“Sure, let me just let Faith know what’s going on.” She walked past Angel and asked lowly, “You heading back to Los Angeles?”

“No. I’m on my way to Rome actually. Should I give your regards to the Immortal?”

“Wow! _Broody much?”_

“So, cookies yet?”

“Angel...”

“Don’t I have the right to ask?”

“ _Do you?”_

The vampire sighed as everyone in the room was now scope-locked on the newest drama unfolding. 

“Is this the game we’re going to keep on playing, Buffy?”

“I don’t play games, Angel. And we both know as much as we once loved each other and probably always will care about the other, you and I would kill each other.”

“You already did that once.” Angel deadpanned, and Buffy scoffed. 

“Don’t go there. It wasn’t one of my better moments.”

“Which one was?”

She lifted her head and prayed to the Powers for patience, because staking Angel was obviously not a good idea. 

“Does dying, count?”

“Harsh.”

“True, though.” She shook her head and disappeared for a few moments, leaving John standing there gaping after her like a loon. 

“She _died_?”

“A few times.” Angel patted John on the shoulder, and the man winced. “But I’ll let her tell you all about it.”

The sullen vampire left and Willow eyed him with sadness before her gaze fell to the other man in the room, who appeared lost in his own thoughts and she smiled inwardly. 

Maybe Buffy could finally have her own happily ever after—after all.

  



	33. Smooth Operator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John takes Buffy and the Potentials out for a night out in Gotham, and finds himself instantly smitten in the process.

John Daggett was a practical man, good in business and unlike Bruce Wayne, he’d made his money not from a large inheritance, but from his own sweat and tears. He liked order—hence why he’d joined the military at eighteen. Four years later, and a scholarship to Harvard—he’d taken a small business start up and turned it into a multi-million dollar corporation. 

He appreciated talent, had an eye for good people and thought of himself a philanthropist. He donated time and money to many projects, including War Veterans and survival groups—having lost his best friend at the age of 21, to a roadside bombing in Afghanistan. 

But of all the things he’d seen in his 37 years, he was fairly certain that what he’d just witnessed in Faith Lehane’s apartment, would stay with him for the rest of his life. 

“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

He glanced over at the blonde-haired, green-eyed beauty across from him. She was wholesome, typical California girl next door, but that’s where the stereotype _ended_. Her eyes were battle-hardened and her mannerisms screamed of a seasoned veteran of war. 

Buffy Summers was economical in her movements, determined in her gait and eyed her surroundings with a _singular_ purpose. 

She was a warrior through and through. 

Where Faith exuded raw sexual appeal and a hard edge—Buffy was like a slow moving fire. Teasing you with its heat and licking at your defenses until you became utterly subsumed.

“I’d be lying if I said I’m still not processing it all.”

“You’ve served in the military, yes?”

He nodded. 

“Marines, if I had to guess?”

“Yes.” 

His face registered surprise before he took a bite of his sausage and mushroom pizza. The rest of the Slayers were at another table—giggling, laughing and in general, enjoying themselves. 

“You enlisted?”

“I did.”

“That’s impressive. What did you do?”

His lips quirked slightly as he said, “I was part of MARSOC.”

“Special operator division.”

“Yes, but how do you know that?”

“I dated a guy once in the special forces. Army. His name was Riley Finn.”

“How long did you two...”

“A year? It was when I was back in college.”

“Did you like college?”

“That’s a loaded question, but I’m not one to ask, because my college experiences included underground military initiatives, a cyborg demon and body swapping. Not your run of the mill, everyday occurrences.”

He snorted out a chuckle. “I suppose that’s an understatement.”

“What about you?” Buffy asked, then taking a sip of her soda before she forged on, “How did you end up going from the marines, to business?”

“Scholarship. Harvard.”

“Smart guy.”

“I do alright. Created my own construction company and ten years later, here I am.”

“Is that the Cliff’s Notes version?”

“Something like that.” He winked. “So you and Faith? I take it you both don’t see eye to eye a lot.”

“That’s another understatement, but we do better than we used to.” She fiddled with her napkin nervously, and then sighed. “I just wish I had known her story back when we were kids. Maybe, I might’ve found a way to be a better friend, and sister Slayer.”

He sat back and considered Buffy again. It was clear she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, but she seemed to genuinely care about her responsibilities and those around her. 

“Hindsight is a funny thing.” He replied easily. “If I had a dollar?”

Her soft smile was adorable, and he felt himself wondering what it might be like to get to know Buffy Summers better. 

“You’re already filthy rich, so I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“True enough.”

Green eyes seemed to be processing him, and whatever she’d found—he figured Buffy seemed to like what she saw. 

“So, have you given up your pursuit of Faith, yet?”

Coughing out uncomfortably, he shook his head in embarrassment. 

“I won’t deny that I found Faith intriguing, but now that I’ve learned a bit more about whom she is, I’m not sure we’d have been a good fit long term.”

“Why?”

“She’s a bit too dark for my tastes? I get the feeling that she and Wayne are more alike than even I know. I’m not a simple man, but I don’t tend to run around Gotham dressed up like a Halloween character to get my rocks off.”

Buffy snickered, and then she threw back her head as rich peals of warm laughter broke free, causing him to join in on the joke. 

“I wonder what Freud would say about Bruce?” 

She smiled at that thought, causing him to lean forward and ask, “You took Psych?”

“Yeah. But again, in my defense—my Psych Professor was the leader of that super secret military group I mentioned before. She didn’t like me much. Tried to have me killed.”

“Damn! And here I thought my life was complicated.”

“Is that a judgement?”

“Not at all. If anything, I admire your strength to do what you do. If what I‘d witnessed earlier was any indication, you’re an effective leader and genuinely care about those who look to you. Not everyone has that kind of strength inside them.”

“Thanks, I think?”

“It was most definitely a compliment.”

Buffy blushed, and he grinned again at how pretty she was. 

“So, what’s on the agenda now that the Joker is gone?” He asked, genuinely curious. 

“Dunno. I’ll probably head back to London with my sister.”

“Sister?”

“Yes, she wasn’t there today. She’s back at our apartment, probably packing as we speak. She loves London and really misses it when we’re not there.”

“Does this sister, have a name?”

“Oh? Sorry...yes. Her name is Dawn.”

“Younger or older?”

“Younger.”

“And your parents?”

Buffy’s face fell, and he wanted to kick himself for asking. 

“You don’t have...”

“No.”

Buffy shook her head and placed her hand on his arm, causing his muscles to flex at the touch even as she blushed again and slowly went to remove it. He quickly grabbed her hand within his and stroked it purposefully, wanting to keep making her blush, if she always looked so delectable. 

Then his thoughts segued instantly to how Buffy Summers might look naked beneath him, with that same sweet blush staining her cheeks, and he felt parts of his anatomy stir. 

“My Mom died when I was 20. She had a brain aneurism.”

“I’m sorry, and your Dad?”

“Who knows. Don’t care.”

“Ah, one of those?”

She nodded reluctantly. 

“My Father was a right bastard, but a hard worker.” He offered, “My Mom died when I was sixteen...cancer. I went into the Military to get away from him.”

“Where is he now?”

“Died. Two years ago. Heart attack.”

“I’m sorry.” Buffy squeezed his hand, a gesture which he returned. 

“Don’t be. We weren’t all that close.”

“Well, maybe someday you’ll have something different with your own kids.”

He felt his expression shift, and Buffy tilted her head questioningly.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I just can’t have kids of my own.” He clarified, averting his gaze and taking a healthy sip of his water. 

When he glanced back at Buffy, she was grimacing at him sadly. 

“Should I apologize?”

He shrugged. “No. It’s not really something I ever saw for myself, to be honest.”

“Yet you’d offered...”

“Ah! You did hear about that, didn’t you?”

“I did. It was rather sweet.”

“Wayne is a _jerk_ , and Faith deserves better, but even I know how hard it is to raise a kid alone. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Was that your only reason?”

“No. I’m not an altogether altruistic person, Miss Summers...”

“Buffy, please.”

“Then call me, John.”

She nodded. 

“But sticking it to Wayne, if it got him to stop being a selfish jerk and do the right thing...well...”

Buffy grinned in admiration. “Reverse Psychology?”

“Not so much. Call it a happy side effect.” 

He circled his thumb around Buffy’s fingers and smirked inwardly at her rapid intake of breath. 

She was clearly physically affected by him. 

He glanced over to the younger girls, who were now in the game room, playing pinball and Pac-Man. 

“Were you serious when you’d said to Mr. Angel, that you’d died?” He asked hesitantly, voice low and full of tenderness.

“Yes.” She chuckled, and his eyes widened, as that was _not_ the response he’d expected. “I’ve technically died three times. The first was when I was sixteen, fighting a vampire called the Master, and I drowned briefly. My best friend Xander brought me back with CPR, but apparently it was long enough for another Slayer to be called.”

“Faith?”

“No, her name was Kendra Young, and she didn’t live long.” She took another sip of her soda, before she finished with, “Faith was called when Kendra died.”

“And the second time?”

“2001. I died to close a portal from unleashing a hell dimension into our world. A Hell God, named Glorificus—I fought her and defeated her, but the portal had been opened with my sister’s blood. I jumped through the energy field to close it and spare her life, but the energy killed me. I was dead for about six months. Willow brought me back with magic.” She finished sadly. 

“Damn!” He gripped her hand slightly and then caressed it unthinkingly, as he stared at Buffy Summers with profound awe. “I don’t even have the words..”

“Most people wouldn’t.”

“Why did you tell Angel that it was one of your better moments?”

She bit her lip and averted her gaze, taking another sip of her soda before replying lowly, “I had made my peace with this life. I was ready to go, but my friends wouldn’t let me. They’d mistakenly thought since I’d jumped into the portal to close the hell dimension...”

“That you were stuck there?”

She nodded. 

He took in her pained body language, and the truth hit him hard. 

“ _You weren’t there, were you?”_

“No.”

“Where?”

He watched her swallow a few times before she whispered out emotively, “ _Heaven_.”

“Shit!” 

He gripped her hand and brought it to his lips in silent commiseration. 

“And the last time?” He queried reluctantly, after a few moments of tense silence. 

“Shot. Died on the surgery table and brought back.”

“Damn! You’re a survivor, Buffy Summers.”

“Nah...I’m just a bad penny.”

He chuckled at that analogy. “Do you ever just want to say, ‘ _fuck it?’_ and leave the Slaying for others?”

“Some,” Buffy admitted sheepishly, “but I have more of a real life now. I can travel and see the world. I’ve been to a few places on my bucket list. Although I’m not sure that term really counts, since I’ve already croaked a few times? But you get the idea.”

He didn’t think he’d ever smiled this much in his life. 

Buffy’s self-deprecating wit was perfectly balanced with a half-glass full type of mentality. 

It was both refreshing and intoxicating.

Plus her perfume, or whatever it was she was wearing, smelled _utterly sinful._

“Where have you been to?”

“Rome, Istanbul, Paris, Greece and London, of course.”

“All good places. Where would you like to go?”

“Hmm...Bali and Egypt are two big ones I’d like to see.”

“Wow! They are as about as different as you can get.”

“Have you been there?”

“Bali, yes—Egypt, no.”

“I saw a picture of the Maldives once too, and thought it looked idyllic.”

“Never been there either.”

“Where have you traveled?”

“I was in the Middle East during my deployment, but have been to India, Morocco, and South Africa. I’ve also traveled to Hong Kong, Singapore and Australia and most of the places you’ve already visited too.”

“All good places.”

“Who’s the Immortal?”

Buffy blanched at the unexpected segue, but then she shrugged.

“Vampire. Much older than Angel. I met him in Rome, and we had a thing for a while.”

“Do you like to live dangerously?”

“I think it was more of a no expectations kind of thing? I like sex too much to stay celibate, but even so—I’ve only had five partners.”

“And how many were vampires?”

“Three.”

He sat back stunned. 

So much for the sweet Miss California type. 

It would seem that Miss Summers had a bit of a bad girl streak in her too. 

“You seem surprised?” She inquired flippantly. “How many women have you been with, Mr. Daggett?”

He chuckled deeply but then shrugged, completely unrepentant. 

“I’ve had three relationships. None have lasted more than a year. As for sexual partners only? Seven.”

“So ten total?”

He nodded. 

“When was your last relationship?”

“About a year ago.”

“Please don’t tell me she was a model? Bruce seemed to have that area covered, even if it was mostly for show.”

“ _Seriously?”_ He inquired with interest, not knowing this little tidbit about Wayne’s personal life, although if he was honest, it made total sense. 

“Yes, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“She wasn’t a model. She was a CEO of her own company.”

“Oh, why didn’t it work?”

“I don’t know exactly. She was busy and so was I. The sex was good, but I always felt like there was something fundamentally missing. Almost as if she was two different people?”

He shook his head and hummed awkwardly. 

“Does she live in Gotham?” Buffy asked.

“No. She lives in Paris. She owns Tate Conglomerate. Her name is Miranda Tate.”

“I don’t know that name.”

“I’m not surprised. She’s a very private person. We just happened to meet at a green summit in Paris, which she co-chaired. I was instantly attracted to her passion for the environment, but as time passed, I found myself becoming disenchanted with her lack of communication.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

“Long distance relationships usually are, especially if both people aren’t willing to put in the effort to make it work.”

“True enough.”

He glanced over again at the other Slayers and decided to cut to the chase. He was smitten and wasn’t the kind of man who waited for an opportunity to present itself. 

The signs were there...

...would Buffy take that leap with him?

“Do you have to stay on babysitting duty?”

“No.” She chuffed out an amused snort. “They are more than _perfectly capable_ of getting home on their own.”

“ _Oh?”_ His face morphed into a sly grin. “So if I were to ask you to have _dessert_ with me? What would your answer be?”

“That depends?”

“On what?”

Green eyes fluttered slightly, and when Buffy bit her lip—he felt his body coil in anticipation.

“Where would we be getting this dessert?”

“My place.”

She smirked. “You don’t waste any time, do you, John?”

“I don’t believe in playing games and when I see something I want, I tend to go after it. Less confusion that way.”

“And what do you want?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“To see if you taste as good as you smell.”

Buffy’s blush deepened, but her eyes were alight with interest as she considered him. 

“And how do I smell?”

“Like the most succulent butterscotch.”

“And you like butterscotch.”

“It’s my _favorite_.”

“Hmmm.” 

She leant forward, gently tracing his index finger up and down on the side, then swirling it around the tip, as her tongue peeked out slightly and wetted her bottom lip enticingly.

“Fuck!” He growled lowly, feeling his dick starting to throb and become a bit uncomfortable trapped in his slacks. “Say _yes_.”

“You’re quite bossy.” She quipped and he nodded. 

“And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t usually have dessert with men I’ve just met.”

“And I don’t usually make the offer to women I’ve just met, but something tells me that whatever this is? It isn’t going to be a one time thing.”

“You’re that confident?”

“Why don’t you take a chance and see for yourself?” He challenged deeply, his eyes gleaming with lust.

Buffy immediately stood up, letting go of his hand and for a moment—he thought he’d miscalculated, but when she returned a few minutes later, she grabbed her jacket and smirked down at him. 

“I accept your offer, John Daggett. Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes.”

He stood up and grinned, grabbing her hand and ignoring the whispers and stares of the junior Slayers as he threw several hundreds down on the table and reached for his coat too. 

When they walked outside, he led Buffy over to his black Porsche Carrera and opened the door for her. Her bright smile had him feeling like he was at that very moment—king of the world. He closed her door and jogged around to the other side, starting the engine and taking off like a flash, towards his temporary home. 

“Where are we headed?”

“I have an apartment above my offices at Daggett Industries. I’m staying there for the time being as my Brownstone had a water leak.”

“Oh. How far away are we?”

“Twenty minutes, why?”

Apparently that was the right answer, because Buffy just smiled and then started to run her hand up and down his right thigh almost absently, but he knew better. On every pass, her hand would get higher and he gripped the steering wheel tightly, breathing through his nose as he tried valiantly, to keep his eyes on the road. 

Luckily his windows were heavily tinted. 

“You’re playing with fire.” He growled out in warning, and Buffy’s tinkling laugh had him almost stopping the car and taking her right there, public be damned. 

Once he was fully at mast, the little minx cupped him through his slacks and hummed in appreciation as she leant over and nibbled softly on his ear lobe, then whispered, “ _Very_ nice package you have there, Mr. Daggett.”

He turned his face slightly and briefly made eye contact, coming to a stop at a red light. Their lips were almost touching, and he could feel the charged electricity between them, but he _knew_ the minute he tasted her, all bets would be off and he really wanted to fuck her in a bed.

Her green eyes were dilated, and he knew his probably were too. They just continued to stare at each other as Buffy caressed him purposefully, gently squeezing and cupping him just right. 

When the light turned green, the moment was broken by someone behind them honking their horn, causing him to floor the accelerator...smirking when he heard Buffy’s husky laughter in his ear. 

Then she decided to unzip his slacks, and he didn’t stop her. Groaning deeply when her index finger poked though the opening and she hissed in on a stunned breath. 

“Well...this is a _pleasant_ surprise.”

He grinned, turning left onto the expressway.

“I don’t usually wear underwear.”

“ _Perfect_.” 

She purred and then his body slammed back in the seat as she pulled him free and engulfed him into her warm, wet mouth. 

“Holy fuck!”

His eyes _so_ wanted to roll back, but he had to get them to his place in one piece, and that wasn’t going to happen if he lost his mind quite yet. 

Gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life with his left hand, he cupped the back of Buffy’s head with his right and gently guided her mouth to his liking. 

“Fuck, _yes!_ Suck me like that!”

She hummed in pleasure at his instructions, as her right hand came across and cupped his balls through his slacks, while her left hand started to stroke the part of his dick she couldn’t fit into her talented mouth. 

Every upstroke, she’d twirl her wicked tongue around the head of his cock, letting it linger on the tender foreskin just enough to cause him to release out a desperate groan. Her hand was pumping him with firm strokes and moving in tandem with her mouth—which was literally a wet dream. 

“Yes..” he moaned in relief, as his offices suddenly came into view. “Fuck! So _good_...”

Then she swallowed him unexpectedly, her throat convulsing around his dick and she held him there...for at least thirty seconds...

_And he blew his load..._

His whole body contracted in white hot pleasure, as his spend was swallowed down voraciously. 

Somehow, he’d managed to park his car in his usual spot and when he turned off the engine, his little vixen pulled up and licked her lips with relish. 

“You taste good.” She purred, and that was it! 

He smashed his mouth onto hers, deepening the kiss and loving the taste of himself on her tongue. 

When they finally pulled back simultaneously, both heaving chests and rasping for air—he readjusted himself and got out of the car, running around the other side and pulling Buffy out, before lifting her up into his arms and walking with purpose towards his elevator. 

When the door closed, his mouth was back on her’s, and they were literally tearing at each other to get their clothes off. 

They didn’t even make it upstairs to his bedroom as he took her right against the wall, just inside his penthouse. 

It was brutal and primal and fuck...

...she was _perfect_. 

And when they both cried out their mutual releases, he had to wonder if this wasn’t what he’d been looking for all along.

“How long do I have you to myself?” He whispered, between passionate kisses and she shrugged. 

“I don’t know, John Daggett—do you work better with a deadline?”

He snorted out a deep laugh and shook his head. 

“I excel in all kinds of ways, my lady. I just wanted to know, if you’ll let me keep you here for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Until you can’t walk properly?”

“Damn! You say the _sweetest_ things.”

His dark chuckle had Buffy blushing, but sure enough—two days later as she finally managed to pull herself out of John Daggett’s bed—she was sore and spent and wondering just how in the hell, she was ever going to be able to go back to London after this.


	34. Beef Stick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving John Daggett’s apartment and returning to her’s, Buffy and Faith decide to do some investigating on their own.

“Hey, B!” Faith’s shit-eating grin had Buffy rolling her eyes in disgust. “You okay? You’re walking kinda _funny_.”

“Shut up, Faith!”

“Fine, but for the record? You’ve managed to ruin my fun.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If Bruce finds out that John has decided that chasing me no longer has merit, he might try and weasel his way out of the punishment I have planned for him.”

Buffy put her hands over her ears. 

“I do **NOT** want to know about what you and Bruce get up to, Faith.”

“I do.” Colleen nodded. “He’s fucking sexy as hell. I bet he’s a stud in the sack too.”

“Well,” Faith snorted, “would you look at that, B? Our little Colleen is all grown up!”

The rest of the potentials, including Violet, who was finally all better afternher ordeal—were snickering and laughing out loud. 

“John Daggett is hot, too.” Eve offered, and the girls nodded, all turning towards Buffy with interested gleams in their gazes. Even Faith was leaning forward, her expression alight with curiosity. 

“ _Oh come on!_ Can’t you all live vicariously through Faith?”

“No!” They all shouted in unison. 

“Annoying little cretins.” Buffy murmured as she walked into her room, Faith following closely behind before shutting Buffy’s bedroom door on the eager faces of the Slayer Brady bunch. 

“You okay?” Faith asked seriously, and Buffy nodded. 

“Sore, but the best kind of sore. The man is...”

“He looks like he’d be a tiger in bed.” 

Faith sat down and leant back along Buffy’s small sofa. 

“More like a lion.”

“Nice!”

Buffy turned and gave Faith a measured look. 

“And Bruce?”

“I think I remember one time back during our little body swap, the term ‘ _stevedore_ ’ being used?”

“ _Oh God!_ Didn’t we agree that term was off limits except for....”

Faith laughed. “Sorry, you’re right, but seriously? How would that even make sense?”

“I don’t know! My Mom and Giles...”

“ _Ewww_...”

They both shuddered and then huffed out a mutual laugh, before Faith’s expression turned serious. 

“Bruce Wayne is... _damn_...he just hits all the right buttons, you know? Not to mention, he’s more than gifted—if you get my meaning.”

“I do.” 

Buffy grinned and Faith’s eyes lit up mischievously.

“Yeah?”

“I might have given him a blow job in his Porsche on the way to his apartment.”

“Nice! Did he appreciate your technique?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Both women snorted and then fell back in raucous laughter. 

“He doesn’t wear underwear.”

“Ohhh...He’s a bad boy, deep down.” Faith hummed out thoughtfully. “He likes to live on the edge...in his own controlled way. I bet he’d totally be into fucking you in a club. Dark hallway, loud bass playing...”

Buffy bit her lip thinking about it.

“You think?”

“Mmhmm...now _Bruce?_ He’d never be caught dead in a club. At least not where you could see him. He’d get off _watching_...”

“Seriously?” Buffy squeaked, and Faith tilted her head in acquiescence.

“He was there that night at Oswald’s...watching you and me dancing. Apparently, he was rather taken with my outfit, and my...shall we say...tendencies...”

“Shit! Who knew Bruce Wayne would be a submissive in the bedroom?”

“Not _all_ the time, but he enjoys it when we’ve done it. I think it’s because he’s so controlled in everything else in his life, and has never trusted someone enough to just let go and give in.”

“And he does with you.”

“He’s trying. We both are. He asked me if I would be interested in Shibari.”

“Oh, I’ve seen that!”

“Really?”

“Yep. _Very hot._ ”

Faith’s expression changed on a dime as she grabbed Buffy’s laptop and entered the prompt into the search bar. 

Both Slayer’s watched the technique being performed, and Faith had to admit...B was right...

...it was smokin’ hot...

“That’s, Damn! I don’t have words.”

“Do you think you could do that?” Buffy asked, genuinely intrigued. 

“I don’t know, but I think I’d like to try. Maybe not right away, but if this thing with Bruce ends up being the real deal...”

“You’re having a kid together, Faith? How much more _real_ do you want it?”

“That’s the 64,000 dollar question.”

Buffy sat down at the edge of her bed and took in her sister Slayer, who seemed more relaxed than she’d ever seen her. 

“You happy?”

Faith tilted her head back for a moment as she considered the question. 

_Was she happy?_

She cared for Bruce, but hadn’t told him that she loved him...

Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she was there yet...

“Bruce told me in the hospital that he’s in love with me.”

When there was no immediate reply, she glanced back to Buffy, her jaw hanging open—completely flummoxed. 

“ **Nice**.”

Shaking her head, Buffy just said, “Sorry, Faith. It’s just hard for me to wrap my mind around Bruce Wayne actually saying those three little words. Feeling them, okay? Admitting them to himself, possibly? But _verbalizing_ them?”

“I know. I’m still not sure I believe it.”

“Why?”

“For all the reasons you just said and a few more besides?”

“Do you think you could grow to love him?”

“I don’t think it’ll be hard at all, in fact? I’m probably half way there already.”

“How are you feeling, baby wise?” 

Buffy decided it was probably smart to change the subject.

“Nauseous in the morning, so that tells me I’m right on track.” Faith admitted with a grimace. “But seriously, this little one is going to _survive_.”

Buffy went to open her mouth and then her eyes widened in shock.

“Slayer Dream?”

“Yeah.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“Shit.”

“I know.”

“Did he have a name in your dream?”

“Damian.”

“That’s pretty specific, Faith.”

“I know.” She said in defeat. “And I’m trying to be okay with it.”

“Have you told Bruce, yet?”

She scoffed. “ _Are you kidding, B?_ I’m still processing it. Give me a few days before I spring it on Mr. Moody.”

Buffy snickered at Faith’s very accurate moniker for Bruce and his mood swings.

“How’s Violet?”

“She’s good,” Faith admitted with a soft smile, “she’s gonna stay close to Gotham for a while. She and Rona are thinking about New York together. I think it’s good that Vi have a patrol buddy for a while.”

“Good idea.” Buffy fiddled with the edge of her shirt and said softly, “you’re staying here, aren’t you?”

“I am. Gotham is where I need to be right now.” She leant down to make eye contact with Buffy, who was purposefully averting her gaze. “Spit it out, B.”

“It’s nothing, really. I’m going to head back to London.”

“What about John?”

“Faith...”

“Uh, uh...you don’t get to do this too. Do you _like_ him?”

“I do, but I’m not going to stop living my life for some guy, not matter how good he is in bed.”

“Have you told him you’re leaving?”

“Not in so many words. He knows Dawn wants to go back to London, and he didn’t ask me to stay. He _did_ mention this likely not being a one time thing, but who knows.”

“He seems like the kind of guy who likes the chase.”

“I got that vibe too. So once he’s had me?”

Faith shrugged, but didn’t reply as she didn’t know much about John Daggett at all. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Shit, that’s never a good thing.”

“Fuck you.” She pouted. “But anyway, I was thinking...about what Daggett said the other night about his nephew.”

“And?”

“Well, if the nephew was a Freshman when this happened then there’s a really good chance that whomever did this to him is still at University, so I had Willow do some digging while you were gone.”

“And?”

“I found out that Zacharias Daggett dropped out of Gotham University two years ago. The fraternity he belonged in was Alpha Phi Sigma. It just so happens that the CEO at Gentex Pharmaceuticals has a kid who goes there. Tight end, Football star.”

“So?”

“I was looking for a connection as to why that might’ve happened to Daggett’s nephew. Did you know Gentex was on the verge of bankruptcy due to several class actions lawsuits? Then suddenly, Daggett goes into business with them and their reputation is cleared.”

“So you’re thinking this was a set up from the get go?”

“Maybe. Willow has a picture of Zacharias Daggett. Sweet looking kid, not a jock. A total nerd.”

“Why would a fraternity take in a nerdy kid as a pledge?”

“Good question. Wanna go to a frat party tonight and find out?”

Buffy’s eyes widened and then her face split into the biggest grin Faith had ever seen. 

“Lead the way!”

Later that same night, both Buffy and Faith were dressed to the hilt. Faith had her pink wig and sunglasses on, while Buffy was sporting a black wig with brown contact lenses and a fake mole on the tip of her lip. 

They had a cab drop them off right at the front of the fraternity, where the lights and music were pulsating down the street. 

Another cab pulled up and out popped Eve and Shannon. 

“Okay, split up and keep your eyes open. Do you all remember what the target looks like?” Faith asked and everyone nodded. 

“Don’t drink anything, and don’t take anything.” Buffy warned. 

“Okay, mom!” Eve quipped, causing both Faith and Shannon to snicker while Buffy rolled her eyes. 

As soon as they made their way inside, Faith’s nose scrunched in disgust from the stench of alcohol. 

“What a cluster.” She muttered as she moved further into the room. She was wearing a halter top, leather pants and had her zip ties under her belt, just in case. 

“What’s the kids name, again?” Shannon asked. 

“Cooper Nelson.”

“Got it.” 

As Faith scoured the groups in each room, she was waylaid several times by handsy college boys who clearly had no idea how to drink in moderation. Near the bar in the main room, she finally sighted her prey. 

Calling out silently for Buffy, Faith waited until she saw Buffy enter the room with Shannon at her heels. She then made her way over to Cooper and flirted up a storm. 

The tight end smiled at Buffy, but it was clear he was more interested in the guy next to him and Faith snickered to herself. 

_So that’s how it went._

But the kid was smooth. It was obvious that whatever his sexual preferences were, he had an image to maintain to his jock friends. When Buffy was finally successful in leading him upstairs, Faith followed—leaving Shannon and Eve to keep watch. 

Faith found Buffy in the last room at the end of the hall. She was sitting on the edge of a large bed, listening to Cooper drone on about football season, which would be starting in a few weeks. 

“So Cooper, can I call you that?” Buffy tittered. 

“Sure.” He smiled and then his eyes widened when he saw Faith entering the room and closing the door. “Who are _you_?”

“Oh, me and Alice here are a tag team and we were watching you and thought that you looked like the kind of beef stick that could handle the both of us.”

Cooper swallowed and laughed out nervously. 

“No?” Faith purred as she sat down on the jocks other side and gripped his thigh tightly, seeing his face grimace when she applied more pressure. “You see, me and Alice here? We have a little bet going on, want to hear it?”

“Sure.” Cooper licked his lips to wet them, his voice dry and raspy. 

“See, Cooper? Alice here thinks you’re a stud in the sack. But me? I think you’re all bark and no bite?”

“Who are you?”

“Hope.”

Buffy snickered. 

“In fact, Cooper? I think you bat for the other team, and I right?”

The boys face went from confused to angry and he tried to push them both away, but Faith’s hand just gripped him like a vice, while Buffy held onto his arm firmly. 

“I think you’re wrong, Hope! I think Cooper here loves the ladies! Right Cooper?”

The boy nodded slowly, unsure what to say or do at this point. 

“Nah.” Faith waved the hand that wasn’t attached to the jocks leg and then used it to shove his head back so that his neck was now strained in pain. His grunt of discomfort only made both Slayers smile. “He’s definitely packing for the other team. So which is it Cooper?”

“Fuck you!” He growled and Faith chuckled. 

“Sorry, stud, you’re so not my type. But you know what type I think is? Zacharias Daggett?”

Cooper’s jaw dropped and both Buffy and Faith’s grins were now predatory. 

“Tell me, stud? Who’s idea was it to rape the kid? Your Dad’s or yours?”

Buffy at this point—closed her eyes and called for Willow, who was down the street waiting for the signal. In a flash she was in the room, her eyes black as her hair and her veins popping out in stark relief on her pale skin. 

“Hello, Cooper.”

“ _Fuck! Who are you people?”_

“We’re your _reckoning_ , Coop. You’re either going to tell us who was responsible for Zac or my friend here will look through your mind, find the information anyway and leave you a blubbering, slobbering vegetable for the rest of your life.” Faith bit out. 

“You’re bluffing.”

Willow smiled that patronizing smirk of her’s and then her power started to crackle off her hands as she wiggled them at the boy. 

“Really not.” She singsonged gleefully.

Faith leant over and hissed into the kids ear. “Who gave up the drugs to roofie the kid?”

“No one! I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Last chance, stud.”

Willow came over and placed her hands on Cooper’s temples, and the electrostatic shock had him crying out in pain. 

“Just a taste of what’s to come.”

“ _Please don’t hurt me!”_

“We won’t. As long as you tell us what we want to know.”

The kids eyes were all over the place as he struggled against the two Slayers, but it was no use. However they were holding him down, they were stronger than he was. 

“I didn’t want to, okay?” He blurted in terror, “But he told me I had to! He said he’d out me if I didn’t do exactly what he wanted me to!”

“Who?”

“He didn’t give me a name! I swear! He just said he was working with my Dad, and that he’d tell my dad I was into guys if I didn’t help him!”

Faith glanced over at Buffy and they both mentally shrugged. Willow then went over and opened the kids laptop, bypassed the password, and brought up a picture. When it was on the screen she turned it and showed it to Cooper. 

“Is this the guy?”

“No, that’s not him.”

All three girls looked at each other in confusion. 

If it wasn’t Crane, then who was it?

Buffy silently asked Willow to bring up the members of Daggett’s board, which she did. When she showed them to Cooper, he pointed to the third one and nodded emphatically, “Yeah!” Cooper screamed, “that’s him!” 

“Is there any evidence?” Buffy hissed. “Did he want proof you’d done what he’d asked?”

“Yes. He told me to video it.”

“Was it you who did the deed?”

“No! I couldn’t do it. He paid my teammate Scott Brenton to do it.”

“The guy you were with downstairs?” Faith guessed and Cooper nodded. 

“Where’s the tape?”

Cooper jutted his chin over to his desk and Willow opened it, finding several flash drives. 

“Which one?”

“Take them all.” Buffy commanded. “That way we don’t have to come back.” She gripped Cooper’s throat and said to Willow, “remove tonight. There’s no reason to give anyone a heads up on this.”

“My pleasure.” 

Willow hummed and touched the kids temples, removing the memory and watching him writhe as Faith clamped a hand over his mouth as he screamed in horror. When they were done, Buffy knocked him out cold. 

“Check his computer.” Buffy gestured to Willow. “See if there’s anything else on there we can use.”

“Got it.”

It took ten minutes to find everything they needed, and when they left—they all headed out the back way. 

Twenty minutes later, Buffy was at John Daggett’s doorstep with evidence in hand. 

He answered with a bright smile. 

“Hey, _sexy_. What can I do for you?”

She handed him the flash drives and the copy of the file Willow had made of Cooper Nelson’s computer data. 

“For you.”

John looked down at the bounty in confusion. 

“I don’t understand.”

“You _will_.” 

She winked, and then left the poor man standing there alone, staring after her with a befuddled expression on his handsome face. 

When she returned to her apartment, Dawn was packed and ready to go. 

“You coming home with me, Buffy?”

Buffy sighed and she looked to the other Slayers, and smiled at each of them in turn. 

“I want you to take care of each other. I will be just a phone call away if you need me.”

“What about John Daggett, Buffy?” Eve asked. 

“That’s up to him.” Buffy said seriously. “But right now, I need to take Dawn home.”

Hugs were shared all around, and as she was about to leave...Faith stopped her. 

“What should I tell him when he asks?”

“If he does, you can tell him the next move is his.”

“Got it. Take care, B.”

“You too, Faith.”

The two Slayers nodded to each other in farewell, and Faith had to wonder how long it would take John Daggett to figure it out. 


	35. London Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daggett is thrown by Buffy’s gift, and decides to make a trip to London.

The man in question was at that very moment, sitting within his office inside his apartment, staring at the computer screen in front of him. 

_How in the fuck had Buffy managed to do in one night, what he’d failed to do in two years?_

He’d had Cooper Nelson investigated, as he was the only child of Gentex’s CEO, but the kid had checked out. Good student, girlfriend, all around nice guy. In none of the investigative reports had he been given any information that the young man preferred same sex relations.

The video of the assault had been heartbreaking to watch. It had left him angry and shaken in equal measure. 

It was clear Zac was under the influence of something, his eyes were glazed over as the kid in the video commanded him over and over again in so many degrading ways, it was only due to his time in Afghanistan and all the horrors he’d seen there, that he hadn’t vomited up his dinner.

But what had made him the angriest, was that it was one of his own board members who had blackmailed the kid and had been the instrument of Zac’s assault. 

Sitting back with a glass of scotch, he remembered his board pushing for expansion into different markets, and Gentex had been brought up by two of his board members—Edgar Burns and Mike Hollyweather. Both men were long time associates, and had been on his board longer than anyone else. Burns was the man identified, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others.

He needed to figure this out, and he couldn’t do it through regular channels, so he called the one person who would be able to figure this out quickly. 

“Wayne.”

“It’s John Daggett.”

There was a silence on the end of the line, and then he heard the man himself whispering to someone else in the room. When he got back on the line, all he said was, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m going to assume Faith might’ve mentioned that Buffy brought me over some information earlier tonight?”

Bruce sighed and then replied, “She did.”

“I need to do an investigation of two of my board members, but I can’t do it through my normal channels without alerting them.”

“And you want me to do it?”

“Or the other guy.”

Bruce snorted. 

“Send me the information, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” There was a brief pause and then Wayne asked, “Was there something else?”

“No,” He said a little too quickly. “Just get back to me as soon as possible.”

“I’ll do my best.”

And then the line went dead. 

A few moments later, he scrolled through his text messages, typed out a message and hit send. 

_Hey. I just got through researching the information you brought to me. Thank you..._

There was a slight pause and then a ding...

**You’re welcome...**

His fingers hovered again and then he typed out...

_Would you be interested in going on a date with me tomorrow night?_

Another pause, this time a bit longer...

**I’d love to but I’m at the airport.**

What?!?!

Where was Buffy going? 

Was she leaving Gotham?

_Where are you headed?_

**London.**

Shit!

His fingers were flying over his keyboard as he typed out...

_Did I do something wrong?_

**No.**

_Then why are you leaving?_

Another weighted pause and then...

**Dawn wants to go back home and I told her I’d go with her.**

_Oh, so you’ll be back, right?_

**John...**

This was so not happening to him a second time!

_I don’t understand. You spend two days in my bed and then leave? Am I not supposed to take that personally?_

**No, you’re not, but I’m sure you will.**

_What’s that supposed to mean?_

**It means the ball is in your court, Mr. Daggett. There’s nothing in the rule book that states I’m going to be at your beck and call. You want this, you need to prove it. If not...**

_Why you little minx!_

**I’m not playing games, and I’m not going to give up my life for anything less than a sure thing, so think about what you really want, okay? If this is just some passing fancy, I’ll likely never hear from you again...**

_And if it’s not?_

**Then you know where to find me, don’t you?**

_Can I call you?_

**Sure. You can text too, it seems.**

_I told you, sexy...I’m multi-talented..._

**Oh? Does that mean there’s more in your repertoire than what we did the other night?**

_What did you have in mind?_

**I wouldn’t want to infringe on your imagination.**

_I have a very vivid imagination, Miss Summers. I seem to recall how desperately your legs clung around me when I fucked you into the wall..._

_How sweet your moans are..._

_How perfectly you feel around me..._

_How heavenly you taste..._

**Shit! You’re a bad...bad...man.**

_What’s the matter? Regretting leaving already?_

**I’m regretting the fact that I’ll be using my vibrator when I get back, and that’s never a good thing...**

John groaned at the image, before his smile widened devilishly...

_What other kinds of toys do you like?_

**Nice try. If I give away all my secrets, where’s the fun in that? Exploration is half the ride.**

_And the other half?_

**That depends?**

_On what?_

There was another pause, and when she replied, he had to give her credit—she knew how to keep him panting...

**On whether or not, you can make me beg for it.**

Shit!

**Sweet dreams, John...**

_Stay safe, my sexy girl. I will be seeing you very soon..._

**Promises...promises...**

He chuckled deeply when he closed his phone and then sat back lost in his thoughts of soft green eyes and butterscotch skin and he felt his dick hardening in anticipation...

Fuck!

Walking into his shower, and turning on the cold to full—he stepped in and hissed at the contact. He needed to figure out how he was going to tell Zac about finally discovering the truth, and how he would enact his own revenge. 

Fortunately for him, Bruce Wayne was a man of his word. 

In less that a week, Wayne has delivered a packet of information on both of his board members as well as some additional background research that needed to be delved into a bit further. 

And he had a Slayer to surprise with an impromptu visit, as sexy text messages just weren’t getting the job done anymore. 

Neither was phone sex.

So he decided to ask for a bit of help.

Picking up his cell, he dialed the number and sat back smiling, when she answered the phone.

“John, this is a _surprise_.”

“Hey, Faith.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to call and say ‘ _thank you’_ for everything.”

“It’s not a problem.” He heard the amusement in her voice. “One good deed deserves another.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Five by five.”

“And the baby?”

“Doing good so far.”

“And Wayne?”

“Sitting here glaring at me for answering the phone and talking to you.”

“What a...”

“Don’t finish that thought, John.” Faith huffed on a laugh, causing him to grin. 

“I’m glad you guys are figuring your shit out.”

“Ouch! That’s not nice.”

“But true.”

“Maybe.” There was a weighted pause and then she demanded, “So spit it out, John. You didn’t call just to thank me.”

He snickered out a husky chortle, as he shook his head fondly. 

“How do you do that?”

“As I’ve told Bruce many times, I have a gift for sniffing out bullshit. You know, it doesn’t matter what kind of vibe you get off a person—cause nine times out of ten, the face they’re showing, isn’t their real one.”

“Damn!” He snorted, and he heard Wayne in the background doing the same. “That’s _harsh_.”

“True though. So cut to the crap, John.”

“Fine, but only because you asked so politely.”

Her giggle was music to his ears. 

He would probably always have a bit of a thing for Faith, and he’d hold it deep within his heart where no one but him would ever know...but that didn’t mean they were a good fit, or something that would work long term.

The sex would’ve been mind-blowing...

He’d no doubt about that.

But he had a sneaking suspicion that Faith was rather demanding, and as much as he liked to experiment, he preferred control. 

And being in charge.

And with Buffy? 

Based on their two days fucking each other sore, he knew she liked being dominated almost as much as he liked dominating her. 

It was even more heady because he knew at any time, she could have taken the power back and left him panting—but she’d let him be in charge...

And he could see that being a long term thing. 

A _permanent_ thing. 

“I was heading to London, and I needed to know where I might find Buffy? It’s going to be a surprise.”

“Ah.”

“And?”

There was some movement, and he figured Faith was walking somewhere a bit more private. 

“You know, John? I should be upset with you.”

“Why?” His brow furrowed in concern. 

“I didn’t know your attentions were _so_ fickle.”

“Faith...”

“Just kidding. But I haven’t told Bruce about your new...whatever it is...”

“Why you _little_ vixen!”

“Yeah. Sue me.”

“Why are you holding off?”

“I have my reasons,” Faith prevaricated before she sighed, “just tell me you’re not substituting one infatuation for another?”

“Wow! Do you really think so little of me?”

“No, that’s the problem. I want to believe that the vibe I’m getting off you tells me that you’re really a genuine stand up guy.”

“I _am_ , Faith.”

“And, B?”

He smiled again at Faith’s nickname for her Sister Slayer.

“She’s unexpected, and I really like her. She’s very different than you.”

“In what way?”

He smile widened genuinely at the curious tone in Faith’s voice.

“She’s a glass half full person. She’s battle hardened it’s true, but where your humor is kind of dark and cynical, her’s is more...”

“Sunny?”

“Yes.”

“And you like that?”

“I’m not Wayne, Faith. Both of you are a bit more comfortable wading in the shadows than I’ll ever be.”

Another pause and then she asked seriously, “Did you ever think that was out of necessity?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when a person has felt powerless due to severe trauma, you go one of two ways. You either hide yourself in the pain and rage or you do something about it.”

He considered Faith’s words, and they did make sense...in a fucked up way.

“I suppose I get that.”

“B has suffered loss too. Her Mom, Angel, even dying for the cause, but the difference between her and me is that I’ve never had the entire weight of being the Chosen One solely on my shoulders in the ways she’s had to deal. I’ve fought the good fight, made some screwed up choices—but in the end, I decided it was better to pull for the good guys and leave my rage behind me. Buffy doesn’t have that kind of rage inside of her. She’s too kind-hearted and responsible to be anything but the dutiful general.”

“You sound like you admire her.”

A soft laugh bubbled through the phone, as she admitted, “Maybe? But if you repeat that to her, ever, I’ll kick your ass from here to London and back.”

“Noted.” 

“The IWC headquarters are in Knightsbridge. Brompton Road, just a half block down from Harrods. Red door, no number outside. It’s the only one.”

“Got it. I’ll be getting in late, will she be there?”

“No. She goes out most nights patrolling but on Saturday nights you’ll find her at Cargo.”

“The club?”

“Yep. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Faith. I’ll call you when I get back and tell Wayne to take care of you.”

“I will.”

When she got off the phone and sauntered back into her living room, Bruce was eyeing her with something akin to irritation mixed with amusement. 

“What did he want?”

“To see how I was doing?”

“ _Right_.” 

Bruce sighed as he glanced back down at his paper, and then glared up at his gorgeous Slayer when she tore it out of his hands and plopped down straddling his lap unceremoniously, smiling widely. 

“You know?” She purred, running a lone finger down the row of buttons on his dress shirt, his tie already discarded upstairs. “The Doc said that sex is fine, so I’m thinking we might want to make good on your promise tonight?”

Bruce grinned, gripping her hips tightly and pulling her down on top of his already burgeoning erection. 

“And what did you have in mind, Gorgeous?”

She leant forward and inhaled Bruce’s cologne, then nipped at his pulse point as she ground down on him suggestively, smirking at his grumbled groan. 

“Are you ready for your _punishment_ , Krasivyy?” She whispered deeply into his ear.

Bruce pulled her head back gently and made eye contact, before he asked, “And just what would that entail?”

“Oh no, Krasivyy! That’s up to _me_ , remember? Not knowing is half the fun. You’ll have your safe word. You can stop me at any point if you feel it’s too much.”

Bruce thought about it for all of about twenty seconds before he nodded in agreement. 

“I’m yours to command, Domina.”

“Excellent, Krasivyy.” She hummed and then licked her lips with anticipation. 


	36. Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding Buffy at the club, John runs into someone unexpected.

John Daggett found himself outside of London’s Cargo nightclub, at half past eleven at night, nodding to the bouncer—who waved him on through. He’d called ahead and had spoken to the owner, who’d not only been more than willing to give him VIP access, (for a price), but had actually laughed when John had asked him if he knew a one, Buffy Summers.

“ _Everyone_ knows, Miss Summers.” The man had said, with something akin to amused indulgence oozing from his voice.

He hadn’t liked the sound of that at all. 

When he walked inside, the thumping of the electronic bass was hopping as bodies were gyrating on the dance floor, and the lights we’re flickering like snapshots of paparazzi...

Then his gaze roved, searching for his Slayer. 

But he shouldn’t have worried, she was easy to spot with her corn-silk blond hair and her bright smile. She was completely surrounded by a group of dancers. 

So he sat back and _watched_...

And then grinned, when he moved a bit higher to get a better view of the dance floor from above. 

Once he was on the top level, he glanced down and his heart nearly stopped in his chest. 

_What the fuck was she wearing?_

The few times he’d seen Buffy Summers before their tryst, she’d been dressed in pants or jeans...but this was _something else._

She had on low rise, tighter than tight...red leather pants that cupped her ass like sin. Her top was also leather, with a single piece covering her front and the back made up of criss-crossed strips strategically placed.

Her long hair was straight and flowing wildly as her head whipped to and fro, perfectly timed to the sexy beat...

As he watched her hips sway, and her ass move—he subconsciously licked his lips in anticipation. 

Then he felt a presence next to him. 

Glancing over, his eyes widened when he spotted Mr. Angel—his light brown eyes watching him like a hawk. 

“I must say, I’m _surprised_ to see you here.”

John huffed, but he gestured for the vampire to join him. 

“It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Angel chuckled, before he took a firm swig of some kind of dark amber liquid.

“I didn’t think that vampires drank anything but blood.”

“Alcohol is fine, can’t get drunk but I still enjoy the taste.”

He nodded, then his gaze fell back to Buffy. She seemed to be the center of everyone’s attention as she danced with male and female alike...the pull of her aura a tangible thing even in a crowd of hundreds.

“She _knows_ you’re here.”

“What?” 

His head whipped to the side, and noticed Angel’s smirk playing about his face. 

“Buffy can _sense_ people before she sees them. She knows I’m here too, but to her credit she won’t approach me nor you. Not her way. She gives people she cares about the choice.”

“Choice?”

“To decide whether or not they can handle her life.” Angel said sincerely. “Being involved with a Slayer...not many men could handle such a thing. Most men would balk at a woman being way more powerful than they are. They’d feel threatened after a time, _emasculated_...”

“I’m not most men.” John defended hotly. 

“Perhaps, but we both know that woman down there is a lot softer than she lets on. The only thing she’s ever wanted is to have someone strong enough to brave the darkness with her. To stand next to her and be there for her when the world burns away. If you can’t be that for her, _leave now._ It’ll be far less easier for her if you do.”

“Why do I get the feeling your motive in warning me off, isn’t exactly altruistic?”

Angel smirked. “Because you’re smarter than you look?”

“You _still_ love her?” He accused and Angel nodded, as he would always love Buffy and would never deny that fact despite their past. 

“Of course I do. She’s the first person I’ve ever truly loved in my 300 years of life. And will likely be the last, if I ever leave this life. But that doesn’t mean we’re well-suited, or I can give her the life she deserves. I can stand in the darkness with her, but I _can’t_ live in the light—and I love her too much to allow her to settle for less.” 

“I don’t understand,” he admitted in confusion, “why can’t you be with her? Wouldn’t something be better than nothing?”

Angel didn’t reply immediately as he glanced down at Buffy—who was smiling, laughing and having a grand time and he felt his features soften in melancholy. 

“I was cursed 100 years ago by the Romani for taking one of their own. My soul was returned, but as a consequence, if I ever know a true moments happiness? I lose my soul and revert back to Angelus.”

John pondered that factoid for a few moments, until he nodded slowly in understanding. 

“You two consummated your relationship and you lost your soul, didn’t you? That’s why she had to kill you?”

Angel chuckled, his eyes alight with respect. 

“You _are_ smarter than you look.” He clapped John on the shoulder and then squeezed it in warning. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Bruce Wayne after I found out about what he’d done and how he’d hurt Faith—if you decide to make this a permanent thing with Buffy, and you _hurt her?_ **I’ll destroy you.** I’ll come for you and there’s not a place on this earth, you can hide from me...John Daggett. So the only thing you need to decide is whether or not you think she’s worth it.”

“ _She is.”_

Angel nodded in commiseration, agreeing emotively, “She is.”

John glanced down at a sharp sound down on the floor for a split second, but when he turned back to where Angel had been standing...

The vampire was _gone_...

**Shit!**

His gaze fell immediately back to Buffy, and he watched her with an adoring grin on his face. Angel was right, in that she was a lot softer than she let on. 

He noticed her whispering something to one of her dance partners, and then she sauntered off the floor—down a back corridor and John’s brow furrowed.

He hurried down the stairs and back into the throng of people before he found himself walking down the same place he’d seen Buffy disappear to not even five minutes earlier. When he rounded a private hallway, he felt his body being slammed into a wall, and the heat from Buffy’s mouth as she descended on him with such force and intensity, it caused him to growl with lust before lifting her up into his arms and spinning her so quickly, that she was now pressed against the wall with a soft moan. 

Then the smell of her shampoo and body wash hit his nostrils, and he was instantly hard for her. 

Pressing himself fully into the cradle of her thighs, he broke the kiss and took in bright green eyes...

And the wicked smile on her face...

“Hello, _sexy_...” he purred with want. 

“Mr. Daggett? Of all the gin joints...”

“In all the cities?”

“You ended up here?”

“ _Not a coincidence.”_ He bit out as he swooped down and kissed her again, with even more fire than before. Her sweet, hitched moans making his control nearly snap in two. 

“I need to fuck you.” He gritted out into Buffy’s neck, then bit down on her pulse point and laving it as her head flew back and thumped on the wall behind him. 

“Then fuck me.”

His head lifted up in surprise for a split second, then his gaze narrowed before his face broke out into the most sinfully decadent smile she had ever seen in her life. 

Faith was right...

_John Daggett was a very bad...bad...man..._

He set her down and spun her around again, reaching immediately for the zipper on her leather pants and pushing them down, with one hand—while he freed himself with the other. Then he bent her over slightly and pushed up into her with one firm thrust, that had her squeaking out a moan of shocked pleasure, even as he grunted out his own desperation. 

“Fuck, I’ve _missed_ this.” He snarled brokenly, “Feels so good, so tight!” 

He thrusted hard and fast as he fucked his Slayer into the wall, one hand around her chest, between her breasts and cupping her throat possessively and the other—plying her clit with just the right amount of force that had her detonating in under five minutes. 

“ _ **Oh my God!!**_ ” Buffy breathed out in rapture, her body spasming in bliss, causing John to slam into her core one final time with a feral growl—as his seed shot into her depths like a rocket. 

“Fucking perfect!” He hissed deeply, cradling Buffy’s body into his, causing them both to tremble with the forced pleasure of their combined aftershocks. 

They stayed like that for a few moments, until Buffy shivered and John pulled out carefully...turning her to face him, before he knelt down and then slowly lifted her leather pants—grinning up at her like the fucking Cheshire Cat who’d gotten the cream. 

Once she was set back to rights, he quickly did so for himself—and then kissed her again. 

“That was a first for me.” He teased. 

“Good to know.”

His lifted eyebrow had her winking at him, but she didn’t take the bait as she sashayed back down into the club...smirking in satisfaction when strong arms wrapped around her and John’s voice whispered incredulously into her ear, “You’ve done that before?”

“Once.”

“With whom?”

“ _Does it matter?”_

He sighed, because it didn’t...not really...

Instead of answering though, he just asked, “What other fantasies do you have, sexy?”

“Why don’t you take me back to yours and I’ll show you.”

“Now that’s the best offer I’ve _ever_ had.” 

“I just have to grab my coat. There’s a door to the right. You can meet me outside, if you don’t want to brave the craziness of gyrating, sweaty bodies again.”

“I don’t know about you, but I rather enjoy gyrating, sweaty activities.”

“Good to know. How far is your place from here?”

“I’m staying at the Four Seasons. I don’t have a place here.”

“Oh? Well I do, but Dawn is there so probably not the best idea.”

John chuckled and shook his head. “Not how I wanted to be formally introduced to her.”

“No, I don’t imagine that would be the best idea.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I have the Royal Suite booked for the next few days. So I’m at your disposal.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sexy... _really_.”

“Okay!”

Her bright smile had him responding in kind, and once Buffy had her leather jacket, they were on their way.

“Do you want to get a cab?” He asked and she shrugged. 

“Or we could take the tube?”

They walked towards the underground, and were passing along what looked to be an abandoned building when Buffy heard a strangled noise. 

Her head turned quickly, and he squeezed her hand questioningly, but she placed a finger over his mouth and shook her head. 

His eyes widened in sudden alarm, and he nodded firmly. 

Buffy then moved silently down a deserted alleyway where the noise was coming from, and he followed closely behind, trying to stay downwind, but knowing instinctively that she would sense he was still close by. 

As much as Buffy was capable of taking care of herself, there was that military part of his personality that wouldn’t allow a fellow warrior to go into a potential combat situation without proper backup. 

It was a second later that a body came flying in his direction, and he ducked just as a hulking figure crashed into the dumpster to his left. 

He glanced around and noticed a piece of rebar and picked it up carefully, as whomever the person who’d crashed in front of him—got up like they were utterly unfazed and ran back into the alley. 

When he poked his head around the corner, his expression shifted from worried to utterly amazed. 

There was a man on the ground, bleeding...and then there was Buffy...fighting off four vampires at once. 

And he was so stunned, he just stood there and watched as she punched, jabbed, vaulted, kicked, slashed and dodged like nothing he’d ever seen. 

When she staked the first one, and it literally blew up in a cloud of dust—words couldn’t describe how surreal it all seemed. 

Then the second one vanished...

...the third almost immediately afterwards...

The fourth realizing he needed to get out of there, turned and ran straight for him. 

He dodged quickly behind the wall and then shot out his hand right holding the rebar, straight into the fourth vampire’s chest as he rounded the corner...his body dusted on contact.

Buffy came running over, and stopped cold when the fourth vampire disintegrated. She looked at the spot where it had been and then at him, her expression contemplative before she shook her head and smiled. 

“Nice one, Mr. Daggett.”

“Thanks.”

She turned around and went over to the human male, checking him for signs of life. 

“He’s alive. I need to call the EMS.”

He just nodded as Buffy walked them over to a public phone booth and made the call. They both waited until the EMS arrived and then she went over and explained that she’d found the man mugged in the alleyway and heard his cry for help but when she got there...whomever it was must’ve run away.

Backing up her story, he watched as the man was taken away and a heavy feeling settled into his chest. 

What if they had been just a few minutes later?

“ _Don’t_.” Buffy said softly, as her green eyes bored into his. 

“Don’t what?”

“Play, what if? It’s a game _no one wins.”_

He nodded. “I do know that.”

“Are you okay?”

He watched Buffy bite her lip and gnaw on it slightly, her gaze hesitant, her body language almost... _bracing_...

And in that moment, he finally understood with stark clarity, what Angel’s words from earlier meant. 

_This was who Buffy Summers was._

She was the hero who fought the good fight with no recognition, save for her conscience and moral compass. She didn’t seek out fame nor notoriety, and she definitely didn’t ask for anything in return. 

The choice for her was a simple one...

She fought because it was the right thing to do.

“I’m fine. Just a bit surprised is all.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’m thinking if I’m going to be spending all my free time with my very beautiful Slayer...I might need to brush up on my marital arts skills. I was actually quite good when I was younger.”

“Really?” 

Her smile was bright and beaming, and he nodded. 

“Really, but those skills are secondary to my other more notable attributes.”

He watched Buffy’s face go from happy to mischievous in an instant, as she bit her lip harder and then breathed out coquettishly, “Perhaps I need a refresher, Mr. Daggett. I just can’t seem to remember.”

Chuckling deeply, he swept her into his side and hailed down a cab. Once inside, he kissed Buffy chastely, but with enough heat to let her know that she was in for one hell of a night. 

“Then we best get back to mine, sexy,” he purred, “so I can remind you most thoroughly.”

“Now that sounds like an excellent plan.” 


	37. Do What’s Necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they discuss their future, Bruce makes a startling discovery that reveals just who the villain was behind the Joker and Crane.

Bruce woke up with a heavy groan into his pillow. 

Or was it Faith’s?

“Fuck!” He mumbled into said pillow, which smelled of vanilla, musk and his Slayer. 

He tried to roll over, and hissed when his backside hit the mattress. 

The soft giggle next to him, let him know he wasn’t alone. 

Peeking an eye open, he squinted up at a beaming Faith...who was holding a mug of what smelled to be ginger tea. 

“Hey, _stud_? How you feeling this morning?”

“Sore..” He moaned, trying to lift his head and failing miserably. 

But then his brain registered the previous evenings activities and he couldn’t help the self-satisfied smile that threatened to break free across his face. 

His little vixen had indeed, _punished him..._

At first he wasn’t sure what to think of the blindfold, spreader bar, handcuffs, cock ring, and riding crop combination. 

But after almost two hours of orgasm denial, and him _begging_ for release...

All his Slayer had done was laugh deeply and _thwat_ the crop down on his ass for another strike. 

He _knew_ he’d have bruises, and probably a few welts too...but that thought was secondary to the almost euphoric feeling of letting go and allowing Faith to take charge of him. At some point after the first hour, he’d actually managed to release his mind enough to reach that sub space that he’d read so much about...but honestly...didn’t think he’d _ever_ be able to reach. 

But the most mind altering moment had been when he’d heard Faith speaking into his mind. 

She’d commanded him without words, and it had been so...

...intimate and oddly, _safe_...that for the first time in his entire life he’d felt— _free_.

He’d trained with the League, so his mental barriers were quite formidable... 

His tolerance to pain, was as well...

But for some unfathomable reason, he’d still yet to fully understand...this was different.

“ _You okay_?” Faith whispered into his mind, and he turned to her and nodded. 

“I _am_ , Gorgeous.” He replied quietly. “Last night was _beyond_ anything I’ve ever experienced sexually. I know this sounds crazy...but I don’t think I’ve ever felt as safe and free as I did last night in your _very_ capable hands. Even though it was a form of punishment, what happened afterwards when we made love was _transcendent_.”

“I know.” She replied softly. 

“Are you okay with that fact?”

She didn’t reply, and he felt his brow furrow, but she just kissed it away. 

“I’m not sure ‘ _okay_ ’ is the right word for what I’m feeling this morning.”

“Oh?”

She shrugged and took another sip of her tea before setting it down on a coaster on the side table nearest her. 

“You were _so_ beautiful last night, Bruce. It took me by surprise. When I opened my mind to yours and broke through that barrier, I could feel everything you were feeling.”

His eyes widened in shock. 

“But I thought you were only telepathic, not empathic.”

“The ability has _always_ been present since Sunnydale, but I’ve resisted it because I haven’t wanted to deal with my emotions, must less connect with anyone else on that level. My guess is when we activated the Scythe again, it probably heightened my abilities to the point where it helped me get past my own mental blocks.”

“Shit.” He said in wonder, before taking in Faith’s hesitant body language. “Come _here_ , Gorgeous. I’m still a bit sore, so you’ll have to come and cuddle with me.”

Her smile was sweet, as she nestled into his side with a contented sigh. 

“You’re not upset?”

“No! Why would I be?”

“I don’t know, Bruce. You’re normally so reserved and emotionally closed-off...”

“Takes one to know one, yes?”

She lifted her head and stuck her tongue out mockingly, but he just chuckled and pulled her back down with him...kissing the crown of her head tenderly. 

“Fine, we’re both emotionally stunted, but last night, I could feel _everything_.”

“And what did it feel like to you?” He asked with curiosity, wondering if she actually got a real sense of what he was truly feeling. 

“It felt like...” she paused, and he could see her struggling for the right words. “It felt like I didn’t know where you ended and I began? It was like your emotions were mine and it felt like it was always supposed to be that way?” She hummed softly, lifting her chin and settling it on his chest, staring up at him with those large, soulful brown eyes that he loved so much. “I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

He smiled softly. “It does.”

She sighed again and then said so quietly, he almost didn’t hear her. 

“I had a Slayer Dream the other night.”

“Slayer dream? Like a prophecy?”

“In a way. It was more a portent of the future. It’s a gift from the Powers that Be and normally, it usually only happens in regards to our calling.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“I had a dream about our little one.” She admitted with a tinge of fear...as if she still wasn’t sure how he would take such an admission.

His face registered his shock, and then he swallowed heavily with emotion, before he finally croaked out, “ _And?”_

“Well, I know if our little one is going to be a boy or a girl. I also know the name.”

“Wow!” He shook his head stunned, trying to wrap his mind around the possibility. “So a vision of the future?”

“Yep.”

“Okay?” 

He wrapped her a bit tighter into his embrace as he thought about the ramifications of knowing, but then concluded that it didn’t matter to him, because boy or girl...he’d love their child with everything he had, and try to be as good of a Father as his own was for him. 

“Do you want to know?” She asked with worry, biting her lip hard. He gripped the back of her head and pulled her down for a sweet, lingering kiss full of love and promise. 

“Yes. I do think I’d like to know.” He breathed out sincerely, before pulling back slightly, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and then shared, “We’re having a boy.”

He nodded slowly before he tilted his head to the side and glanced out the window, his breath catching and he could feel his eyes welling with reluctant tears. 

He hadn’t realized until this _exact_ moment, how much he’d desperately wanted the Wayne name and legacy to live on through him. 

_Beyond him._

“Bruce?”

Clearing his throat, that was clogged with emotion, he glanced down into worried brown eyes and smiled so purely, that her heart literally skipped a beat. 

“Thank you, Gorgeous.”

She choked out a slightly relieved laugh, as they just stared at each other for several more minutes...taking in this perfect moment for what it was... 

A promise for their future.

_Their family..._

“And his name?”

“Damian.”

He nodded. “That’s a good name, Gorgeous. _A perfect name.”_

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” 

He kissed her again, with all the feeling in his heart. 

It was hard for him to admit, that he could finally get past the fear of what life might be like with a family again. He’d refused to entertain the possibility after losing his parents, that it had closed off a part of his psyche—damaging him irreparably. He still struggled, not because he didn’t see the benefit of having a family...but because deep down, in places he never visited, he had wondered if he was deserving of such blessings. 

“Please _don’t_.” Faith pleaded, her voice filled with sadness. 

“Don’t what, Gorgeous?”

She sat up and stared down at him as she wrung her hands together, and he had to wonder just how he’d ever missed that underneath all her tough Slayer exterior...was someone just as vulnerable and needing of a safe haven as he was. 

“Stop thinking that you aren’t worthy of a good life.”

He stared up at her, stunned. 

“ **How do you do that?”**

Her smile was a mixture of sadness and understanding. 

“Because I feel it too. I can now sense what you’re feeling, and it hurts me to think that you’re as damaged as I am. How can two people so flawed make good parents?”

“Faith...”

“No, really? I’m not saying this as a guilt trip or anything like that...it’s just somehow—and fuck knows how—you and me are going to have to really try to forgive ourselves for the past. We can’t change it, and brooding over it or being scared of history repeating itself isn’t fair to our baby and to each other.” 

“I know. And as I’ve said before, I’m _trying_ , Gorgeous. Being with you has opened me up to the possibility of wanting more for my life. It’s a huge step for me.”

“For both of us.” 

Faith glanced over at the clock, and noted the time. She was just about to go get breakfast squared away, when her cell phone rang. 

Glancing down at the number, she showed Bruce the number and he said simply, “It’s probably Karl.”

“Oh?” She pressed down on the green button. “Hello?”

“Hello, Faith. It’s Karl Stroessner.”

“Hi, Karl. What can I do for you?”

“Well, the reason I’m calling is I had a chance to speak with Lucius Fox a while ago. He’d mentioned he’d shown you the accounting of all the financials as well as setting up an account for you. I hadn’t heard back, so I wanted to check in.”

“Hold on, Karl?”

“Of course.”

She hit the mute button, and then asked, “Did you ask Lucius to discuss setting up an account for me?”

“We briefly discussed it the day we went over your portfolio, which is still upstairs in my safe. With everything that has happened, Gorgeous—I honestly, completely forgot to discuss it with you.”

She nodded and then took off the mute. 

“So, Karl? What would setting up an account look like?”

“That depends on many variables. When I spoke with Lucius, he and Bruce had discussed setting up an offshore account through the Cayman Islands, and from there you could set up a dummy account at any local bank of your choosing. We could set up a trust account, that would allow the interest of all your investments to be deposited annually. You could also decide to transfer the funds into a singular trust, and just live off the interest. Or you could choose to sell off the portfolio in full.”

“If I keep the money there at Bank Suisse, would you still be handling the investments?”

“I can. One thing I didn’t include in the portfolio was there was a detailed accounting ledger that was left by your Great-Great-Grandfather.”

Her brow furrowed, and he murmured, “What is it?”

“Hold on, Karl—I’m going to put you on speaker so Bruce can hear this too, okay?”

“That’s fine, Faith.”

Pressing the button, Karl’s voice now echoed in the room. 

“Hello, Bruce.”

“Karl, it’s good to hear from you.”

“Likewise. As I was telling Faith, the portfolio I messengered over to you has an accounting of all investments made through the end of 2006. We are now in the summer of 2007, so as such, there are choices to be made.”

“Such as?” He inquired curiously. 

“Before his death, and at the time of the initial investment, Czar Nicholas set out a very specific and quite detailed accounting of how the monies were to be invested. It was strange, because it was almost as if he’d had some knowledge or foresight not only of his likely death, but how long it would be before his Heir came forth.”

He glanced over at Faith, and she too, looked stunned. 

“I did read through the financials you sent, Karl. They were very well thought out and brilliant in terms of what markets to invest in, as well as when to pull out of certain investitures.”

“I’d figured you’d likely had seen that. The financial plan was for exactly 100 years, to the date.”

“That’s incredible.” He breathed out in wonder, “Is there anything we need to be privy to for the near future?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. According to the data sets I’ve generated based on the information given, the market is predicted to fall sometime in late 2008.”

“So another recession?”

“That’s what’s forecasted based on the models I have now.”

“How long did Faith’s Great-Great Grandfather predict it would last?”

“Four to five years.”

“Shit.”

“Any indication which sectors?”

“It’s predicted to be across the board. I tend to believe it, since certain financial indicators deem it likely.”

Faith gripped Bruce’s arm to get his attention. 

“What is it, Gorgeous?”

“I don’t know much about any of this...but what would happen if the money was moved into something less volatile?”

“That’s a good question, Faith.” Karl replied sincerely, “The technology portfolio you have is fairly solid. I don’t think keeping that part of the stocks will change much of their value long term even if the market suffers through a recession. However, there are some financial stocks we would probably due well with selling off now, and reinvesting them in something less fluctuating.”

“You know, there’s a company I think might be worth investing in.” She bit her lip nervously.

“Oh?” Karl asked. “Which one?”

When she told him, both Bruce and Karl seemed surprised. 

“Why do you think that?” Bruce queried curiously. 

“Because people in general want what’s easiest, right? That’s what this company is about. I use it all the time, because of how I live my life. I have to be able to bring the mountain to me. Everyone shops, they just need an easier way to get stuff and this company is going to be huge. I did read an article on the plane out to Zurich in that magazine you read...”

“Business Weekly.”

“Yeah, that one. They did a profile on the company’s CEO. Seems like she’s got a solid plan for the future and the...what do you call it when you have all the pieces in place?”

“Infrastructure?”

She snapped her fingers and nodded. “Yeah, that.”

Both Karl and Bruce were quiet and then Bruce asked, “Was there any mention of any specific investments to be made going forward?”

“No.”

“Wait a sec,” she asked seriously, “if the market goes down, that’s like a sale, right?”

Bruce chuckled as he smiled adoringly at his Slayer, while Karl chortled too in amusement. 

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

“So I’m at sale, and I want to buy something cheap. If the market goes down, wouldn’t that be the best time to buy? I mean, maybe that’s what my prapraded was trying to say? It wasn’t so much about selling stuff, as in buying stuff.”

Bruce sat back stunned, then he leant over and placed a sweet kiss on Faith’s lips. 

“Good point.” He winked. “So, if you were going to go into a sale, and buy what you wanted? Which stuff would you get?”

“Oh, that’s easy!” She crowed, before she rattled off several names of companies that she was familiar with, and Karl took notes, humming and making suggestions here and there. 

Once they were done, he inquired succinctly, “So, we are in agreement to selling off the financial stocks...keeping the technology stocks and commodities, and then purchasing these stocks when?”

“So fall next year?”

“That is what is forecast.”

“So I just pick a date?”

“You can, or you can pick a stock purchase price.”

“Well, if the market is set to go down in late 2008, then wouldn’t that trigger like a fire sale at some point?”

“How do you know that term?” Bruce asked, lifting her chin and giving her an incredulous look. 

“It’s a common sale term when companies go out of business, right?”

“It is.” He nodded. 

“So...my guess would be if the market tanks say late September 2008, by March of 2009, all the chumps will have folded or sold off most of their stuff. Whatever’s left, can be picked up dirt cheap at a really great price.”

“Shit.” 

Bruce shook his head in awe, his hazel eyes gleaming with undisguised heated lust as he stared at her in appreciation. 

“ _You have that look, Krasivyy._ ” She admonished silently.

“And what look is that?” He whispered deeply into her ear. 

“ _The one where you want to tear off all my clothes and fuck me within an inch of my life?”_ She replied silently again, into his mind and grinned, when his nostrils flared with want. 

“Karl, we’re going to have to get back to you on this in a few days, but go ahead and set up the Cayman and trust accounts and I’ll have my banker here set up a dummy account for Faith to use.”

Karl chuckled in understanding. “How much shall I deposit into this account, Faith?”

She quirked her lips at Bruce and mouthed, “ _well_?”

“Let’s start with twenty here...I don’t think she’ll need more than that amount for the foreseeable future.”

“Sounds good, Bruce.” Karl replied. “I’ll call you in a few days, Faith. Take care.”

“I will.” She replied sassily, and then blurted out, “Karl?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll need to amend my will.”

“Oh?” His voice was cautious and they could hear the concerned undertone. “Might I ask, why?”

She glanced at Bruce, and he smiled and nodded. “Bruce and I are having a child.”

There was dead silence on the phone and then the man in question boomed out a happy laugh, as he clapped his hands in joy. 

“I take it you want your little one listed as your Heir?”

“Yeah. Maybe set up a trust fund for the kid, too?”

“How much would you like to put into it?”

“Uhm...that’s a loaded question. How much do people normally put into trust funds?”

“Usually about a tenth of their net worth. The bulk of the inheritance, they’ll get when their parents pass.”

Bruce and Faith did the silent math, and her eyes widened, as she squeaked out. 

“Uhm, that’s like 20 billion, right?”

Karl chuckled and then said simply, “Yes.”

Bruce almost broke down into laughter at Faith’s horrified expression, as she glared at him helplessly. 

“Is that _okay_?” He mouthed in amusement, causing her to narrow her eyes at him in warning before she finally bit out, “That’s fine, Karl.”

“And how far along are you, Faith?”

“About five weeks, and I know it’s a bit soon...”

“It is.”

“Slayers have Prophetic Dreams.” She quipped.

“Ah.” Karl replied, “Say no more. Do you have a name already picked out?”

“Damian.”

“I see.” Karl paused. “This might be delicate to ask, but what surname will he be given?”

“Wayne.” Bruce stated unequivocally, winking unapologetically at Faith, who just smirked right back at him. 

“Middle name?”

They both considered the question, before she asked silently, “ _Do you want to use your Dad’s name, or yours?_ ”

“What about your prapraded?”

She thought about it for a split second, and then nodded. 

Bruce’s soft smile bloomed over his features as he stated proudly, “Damian Nicholas Thomas Wayne, Karl.”

“Got it. And congratulations to you both.”

“Thanks, Karl.” She replied sincerely. 

When they hung up the phone, Bruce broke down in humor, while she just glared at him with her arms folded over her chest.

“ _Not funny, Wayne.”_

“Kinda is, Gorgeous. You should’ve _seen_ your face when you made the connection.”

“Whatever. So he’s putting twenty thousand into an account for me?”

“No, Gorgeous. Twenty million.”

“Huh?”

“Yes. Unless you’re okay with me buying you a new wardrobe and shoes, lingerie and anything else you might need.”

“I don’t need your money...”

He immediately placed his index finger over her mouth in warning. 

“You don’t need me to, but how about _letting_ me spoil you? Annette will be here day after tomorrow. She’s bringing an entirely new wardrobe for your perusal as well as designer books for you to look over. You’ll need clothes for maternity wear eventually, and as you’re on the petite size, I’m sure she can find things you’ll like to wear. Even if it’s leather.”

“Huh,” she snorted, and then shook her head in disgust, “I didn’t even think about that.”

“Hence why I brought it up.” He sighed and then pulled her into his body, placing a lingering kiss on her temple. “Sergei called yesterday. He’s sending over box seats for the opening of the Ballet next Saturday night.”

“Oh, that’s right! I did promise I’d go.”

“Yes you did, and as luck would have it, it would seem that we need to get you a formal gown for the occasion.”

“ _Joy_.”

He chuckled and then gingerly stood up before heading into the bathroom to get cleaned up. She followed and they spent about an hour making love before he got dressed and left Faith’s apartment, heading upstairs to his own. When he came back down about ten minutes later, his hands were filled with items, and even Alfred had been called into service to help. 

“Hi, Alfred!”

“Miss Faith.”

“I didn’t get the chance to tell you, but I really liked that soup you made for me.”

“The potato and leek one?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t make my stomach upset.”

“Then I’d be happy to make some more, if you want?”

“You’re the best, Alfred! I’d love some, thanks!”

“Of course, Miss Faith. I’ll get right on that.”

Bruce watched Alfred leave with a small smile on his handsome face. 

“So, what’s all this, Krasivyy?”

“This is all for you, Gorgeous. I wasn’t going to let another opportunity pass by without being the one to shower you with what you need. I did promise after all, and I know I haven’t done a very good job lately in keeping that promise.”

“Bruce...”

“No, Faith.” He shook his head as he sat down next to her and reached for her hand, which she allowed. He kissed the back of it tenderly, and then said, “I made you a _promise_ , and no matter what happens going forward—you and our son, will _always_ be my first priorities. This is new territory for me, and I’m not going to be perfect. I’m just asking that you be patient with me if I sometimes get lost in my darkness, and call me out on it too.”

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” 

He then gestured to the stack of items on the couch and coffee table. 

“Open them.”

She smiled shyly and nodded, going over to the large dress bag and carefully unzipping it. Her eyes widening in shock as she pulled out the resplendent gown that she’d seen in Zurich. 

“Oh!” Her eyes shined with amazement. “How did you know that I’d liked this one?”

“I saw your face when you saw it in the photo, and Annette mentioned to me when we spoke that you’d specifically mentioned this gown. In fact, she said you liked the entire look that had been worn by the model in the fashion show. I took a few liberties and changed a couple of things, but I think you’ll like them.”

She opened the second box, and saw a glittering pair of pewter silver and black four-inch strappy stilettos. 

“These are cool.”

“Jimmy Choo.”

“Ah, I’ve seen some of his stuff in magazines.”

The next box she pulled out had a very risqué and barely there set of silk and lace scrapings that one _might_ call lingerie. She held up the bottoms with a smirk and a lifted eyebrow. 

“Sue me.” Bruce deadpanned, and she snickered and then belly laughed as she shook her head at her adorable boyfriend. 

There was also a stunning clutch handbag by Chanel that was in one of the boxes. 

“I could fit one of my knives in here.” She hummed absently, taking a look inside.

He considered that comment for a moment, and then asked lowly, “How did you manage to get out of that warehouse before it exploded?”

Her head shot up and noticed the pensive look on Bruce’s face. Not wasting a second, she came over and settled herself down in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Once she felt his darkness abate somewhat, she pulled back and replied to his question. 

“Jack had me tied to a chair with restraints behind my back. I managed to get him to talk about his plans. He always was a smug fuck, even at the orphanage. Since I never talked to anyone, I’d just listen. I did that a lot. You hear things people don’t think you do, because they’d forget you’re there.”

“Violet mentioned that you’d told her you were mute.”

She nodded. “When the cops found me and took me to the orphanage, I had been so traumatized by what I’d seen, I didn’t speak to anyone. There was a shrink who came in once a month to do free work with the kids. She kinda took pity on me and tried to get me to talk about myself. I think she suspected that I had seen what had happened too, but I never talked to anyone. In my backpack, that I had taken, there were a few books that I always kept in there that were special to me. Russian fairytales...in Russian. So when I could, I’d sneak away and found a small alcove hidden up in the rafters of the orphanage. I would climb up there during the days and read aloud in Russian to keep up my skills. I would talk to my mom, and my babushka too. Anyway...I’m getting off track...”

“No!” He shook his head emphatically. “I want you to share this with me. I mean, if you want to?”

She cocked her head at him, and could feel his sincerity so she nodded and continued... 

“I would have dreams at night. Dreams of things I couldn’t explain. It was only when I was called that I’d realized that the Powers were sending me portents for what was to come.”

He sat back stunned. 

“Such as?”

“Nothing too specific. Just enough to let me know that the supernatural was real. If I hadn’t been scared to speak before, it was double because could you just imagine what the nuns or priest might’ve thought had I told them?”

He coughed out and snorted, shaking his head. 

“That wouldn’t have gone over well.”

“You think?” They both chuckled humorlessly at the morbid thought. “Anyway, I had heard one of the older girls crying to her friend one day when I was hiding up in the alcove about what Jack had done to her. She’d been too afraid to say anything because he was a sick fuck, even then. But that’s when I stole a small butcher knife from the kitchens and kept it hidden inside my mattress under my pillow. It was about a year later he attacked me.”

“And you ran away afterwards?”

“I did. I was gone for a few days, when they found me at the cemetery. That started a pattern until my Watcher came for me.”

“How long were you with her before she was killed?”

“A few months. She was the first adult person I had talked to in years. She was Russian, and it felt comfortable, you know? I finally felt like I had someone who understood me, and then Kakistos killed her.”

“Buffy told me about how the vampire found you both.”

“Yeah.” She breathed in deeply. “Jack made it a point to taunt me about all the ways he’d tried to ruin my life. Once he’d said enough, I broke through the bonds and slammed the steel door closed. Stupid piece of trash told me that once it was shut, it would lock and even my advanced strength wouldn’t be enough to open it. I had strapped a knife to my thigh, which I always have on me when I go out. Either he didn’t check, or didn’t seem to concerned I had it. Anyway,” she paused, “once I shut the door, I threw my knife at Jack and it cut right through his hand that was holding the bomb trigger. He had the warehouse set to blow. Cutting through his hand, activated the bomb and I vaulted up to the rafters, dodging the bullets he sent my way and crashed through the upper window into the water—just as the bomb went off.”

“Shit.” He gritted out, before he gently cupped her head and kissed her deeply for a few moments needing that reassurance. 

“You saw him in there?”

“He was trying to diffuse the bomb. I’d waited until the timer was at five seconds before I bailed. There was no way he could’ve escaped. Did they find his remains yet?”

“No, but there’s still a lot to go through so it might be a while. Gordon is going to call me as soon as they get a positive identification.”

She nodded and then her brow furrowed, as she remembered something from that night. 

“What is it?” He queried. 

“Something Jack said to me. I just remembered and didn’t think much of it at the time.”

“Which was?”

“He said that he’d wanted Gotham to burn, and that he’d found someone to share that vision.” He blanched at that comment, as Faith hummed in thought, “Wonder what he’d meant by that?”

“Gorgeous, are you sure those were the _exact_ words he used?”

“Yeah, _why_?”

“Faith? Did he say anything else? Anything that might’ve seemed innocuous, but I really need to you think about it.”

Taking in Bruce’s deadly serious expression, she figured he had a good enough reason for asking so she nodded and mentally went back to that conversation. 

“Well,” she began hesitantly, “he told me that all he’d ever wanted was to see the world burn and luckily for him, he’d found someone who shared his desire to do it. Said something about doing what’s necessary...”

She hissed when she felt Bruce’s panicked emotions register, before she took in his paled expression.

“Bruce? What is it?”

“The League. Their motto is “ _Do what’s necessary.”_

“So you think that somehow, Jack?”

“Maybe? I mean it makes sense. We knew that the Joker was working with _someone_ , and Crane knew about Ra’s. He was taking direct orders from him before he died, so it’s not a stretch to assume that he was involved with whatever part of the League might’ve survived after Ra’s death.”

“And whomever this person is, knew about Slayers. Not only that, but wanted them out of the way...”

They both stared at each other in stark realization. 

“Shit!” She shook her head. “I need to talk to Crane. Is there anyway to make that happen?”

“Faith..”

“Bruce, listen to me, okay?”

He nodded. 

“For some reason, and I have no idea why, but Crane told us that night that he thought there was only one Slayer. So either that was the information he’d been given?”

“Or he was lying?”

“Yes. I’m going to assume it was the latter. Jack knew about me. What if, and I’m only guessing here...but what _if_ he’d discovered the truth because he’d been stalking me? He knew about Buffy, too. He knew enough to know there was more than one Slayer, and my guess is they took Violet to try and find out just how many there were.”

 _“Fuck!”_ He growled out pissed, but also impressed as he was fairly certain Faith was correct in what she was surmising. “Did Violet have that information?”

“No. The only people who know for sure are Giles and Willow. Maybe Dawn? Buffy and I have a rough idea, but we’ve never talked about it.”

“Do you think,” he considered all the options before he asked firmly, “do you think this was about creating an army of Slayers?”

She gasped out in horror, as she hadn’t even considered that possibility. 

“You think that’s why they were trying to use mind control through drugs?”

“Yes, and Violet was their test case.”

“Fucking hell!” She shouted, standing up and starting to pace. 

Bruce watched her closely, and could almost feel the rage coming off of her in waves.

“Faith...”

“I’m going to find out who did this, Bruce Wayne! And they are going _down,_ do you understand me?”

“ _Faith_...”

He stood up and tried to take her back into his arms, but she smacked his hand away in anger. 

“I don’t want to be placated right now, Wayne. I need to know if you have my back?!”

“You know I do, Gorgeous.”

“Then get me Crane! He’s the only one who might possibly know who’s behind this.”

He sighed and nodded reluctantly, as she closed her eyes and called out for Willow. 

The witch responded almost immediately. 

“Faith?”

“I need you here, _right now._ Don’t tell anyone you’re coming either.”

There was a weighted pause and then a portal opened and Willow stepped through, much to Bruce’s amazement.

“How?”

“I can teleport, but it’s really draining and once I’m inside, I usually don’t have enough energy to get myself out, much less anyone else.”

He nodded in understanding, before he stood up and strode into Faith’s bedroom to call Rachel and then Lucius. 

“What’s going on, Faith?”

She told Willow everything she and Bruce had discussed and Willow’s eyes deepened to black as she stood there in fury. 

“You want me to look through Crane’s mind and find the truth?”

“Yes.”

“It will destroy him, make him a vegetable.”

**“And?”**

“Faith?”

“Willow, what’s the lesser of the two evils here? He won’t talk. Not if the vibe I got off the creep was any indication. Unless we can think of another way?”

“I might have one.” Bruce offered, as he walked back into the room. 

“Oh?”

“Yes. I just got off the phone with Lucius. He was able to isolate the drug in Violet’s system and re-engineered it.”

“He created an antidote?”

“Yes. And what’s more, he was able to create a more concentrated version of it too. It might have to do with Slayer’s blood, but it would be a one shot thing. The sample from Violet was rather small, but I’m thinking if we administer it to Crane?”

“He’ll sing like a fucking canary!”

“Exactly.”

Faith glanced over at Willow and she nodded. 

“If you get him isolated, I can work the Wiccan long enough for you to go in, get the information and out of there without anyone the wiser.”

Faith smiled and nodded in thanks. 

“So where is he?”

“Blackgate.” Bruce answered.

“Can he be brought downtown for questioning?”

“Rachel is talking to Harvey right now.”

“Good.” Faith hummed, “Let’s just hope this works.”


	38. Buffy and John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and John have their alone time interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit material in this chapter...if it’s not your thing, skip it.

Back in London, Buffy at that moment was just finishing up her third sexual workout of the afternoon (she’d lost count of the total number) with John, when her cell phone went off. She sighed and rolled over, but John took the phone and tossed it across the room before latching his mouth back onto her core and sucking her clit into his mouth. 

“John...”

“ _Shhh_..” he chuckled, his bright blue eyes locked with darkened green ones that were staring down at him with awe. 

They’d been ensconced in his suite at the Four Seasons for nearly seventeen hours straight. In the course of that time, he’d made very good use of hands, tongue and cock. Buffy’s stamina was simply put, out of this world. The woman could go for hours, and ride him until he exploded in such pained pleasure, he was afraid his dick was going to fall off. 

But it hadn’t stopped him at all. 

He’d just ordered them room service, showered and fucked her all over again. 

Plus the sound of her sweet moans were quickly becoming an aphrodisiac that he wanted to bathe in again and again. 

Not to mention her succulent taste...

Entering two fingers into her slick channel, he pressed up against that perfect spot he’d found the first night they’d fucked and _rubbed_....

Her strangled cry of his name as she begged so sweetly, had him completely hard again. 

“That’s it, sexy.” He growled deeply, as he continued to put pressure directly on her g-spot. “Come for me, let me hear you...taste you.”

His mouth reattached to its preferred spot and he continued with his ministrations until Buffy’s body bowed off the bed and she screamed his name in ecstasy—his mouth flooding with her juices to which he savored every bit of it greedily. 

He immediately pulled himself flush and then pushed into her still quivering quim, and proceeded to fuck her into the mattress. Her legs were now up by her head as he held them there—showing no mercy. 

“Fuck—look at me, sweetness.”

Buffy’s green eyes, which were now blackened with desire, made eye contact with him...

“You feel _so_ good, sexy. Do you have any idea how perfect you feel around me like this?”

“ _John_...”

Her desperate breathy whine of his name had his chest rumbling with satisfaction. 

“Give it to me, sweetness. Let me hear you _sing_.”

“Oh my _God_!” Buffy screeched, as he continued setting a punishing pace, and all her mind could register was the sounds, smells and feel of him...

... _everywhere_...

She’d been with Angel once, Parker once, Riley many times, Spike too...and the Immortal...but she’d never had a lover who’d talked to her so possessively...

...so passionately...

And it was _hot_...

She had no idea she had a dirty talk kink...

“Please...” she gasped, as he continued to pound into her, hitting her g-spot on every thrust—that her legs started to quiver in anticipation. 

His devilish smile flashed before he leant down and kissed her deeply...and it was so consuming, her hands clawed into his ass and she dug her fingernails into the meaty flesh, loving his strangled groan even as his pace only got harder. 

“You need to come for me _now_!” He snarled, before reaching between them and pinching down on her clit—

Her detonation caused her to erupt out a litany of curses, and this only served to trigger his own orgasm as he arched his back and roared out her name...his body spasming at the force of his own release. 

When he collapsed, tender waiting arms held him and he hummed out in blissful satisfaction. 

“ _Fucking hell..._ ” he murmured into her neck, that even after a dozen rounds of sex, still smelled faintly of butterscotch. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“But what a way to go?” 

He lifted up his head and quirked his lips in agreement, before sealing a gentle, searching kiss onto plump, pink lips. 

“I don’t think I can feel my legs.” He said at last, which caused her to snicker and then she started giggling in earnest. This only served to earn her his tickling fingers, which he’d discovered late last night after a rather playful round of sex—that she was rather ticklish. 

“Are you making fun of me, Sweetness?”

“Maybe?” She gasped, before more peals of laughter bubbled forth from her. “John!”

“What?”

“Stop!”

“Make me.” 

She grinned up and him and in a flash, he was on his back with his arms above his head, noting mischievous green eyes glittering down at him. 

“Damn!” He snickered. 

Buffy leant down and kissed him again, her body rubbing along his sensually and he felt himself responding accordingly, his body apparently a slave to hers. She glanced down as she pulled back and huffed out a small, incredulous snort. 

“You’re refractory time is _very_ impressive, Mr. Daggett.”

“Glad you approve.” He arched into her intentionally, and smirked when her eyes glazed a bit at the contact— his dick sliding with purpose through her drenched folds. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.”

“Ditto.”

“Ride me, sweetness.”

So she did just that...she bounced up and down on John’s more than impressive dick—her head thrown back, taking him in as deep as she could. 

“Such a pretty sight.” He purred, licking his thumb and then twirling it around her clit, which was very swollen from their previous rounds. “You have the most gorgeous pussy I’ve ever seen.” He hummed deeply, stepping up his ministrations, watching on with a predatory grin, as Buffy’s pace sped up. He continued to use the exact pressure she liked, along with a scintillating vocabulary of dirty words, she seemed to get off on. 

He’d never been much of a dirty talker during sex, but with Buffy it just felt natural. 

Plus he totally got off on watching her react so viscerally to it. 

“You should see what I’m seeing, sexy. How perfect my dick looks as it spreads you so good. Such a _perfect_ pussy.”

“John...”

“That’s it, sweetness. Ride me. Take me. Show me how badly you want to come all over me.”

“ _Shit_!” Her voice was strangled, as one hand came out and pinched her nipple while the other was clamped onto his thigh behind her, as she continued to ride him like a pro. 

He could feel his balls tightening up again, ready to explode as he gritted out harshly, “I should keep you like this, _always_. Naked, in my bed. Fucking you over and over again until you beg me to stop. Would you like that, sweetness. For me to make you beg?”

“Oh... _yes_!!!” 

Her movements were blistering now and he just kept pressure on her clit, feeling her core starting to quiver around him. 

“I’ve never been fucked so good, sexy. Gods! All I see at night when I close my eyes is you like this. Fucking me with abandon. Do you even know what a goddess you are?”

_That was all it took..._

Buffy slammed down on him, her body detonating like an inferno as she sobbed out his name— squirting all over him, soaking them both and with a final push up with his hips, he gripped her to him...

—letting go, with her name whispered like a prayer, falling from his own lips. 

This time she collapsed on top of him, and he just held her there—kissing her shoulder, her neck repeatedly in contentment. 

When she finally lifted her head, eyes that were always so beautiful...

... _glowed_...

“That was...”

He smiled and kissed her lips chastely before stating with all due seriousness, “ _The best I’ve ever had.”_

“Yeah?”

“Without a doubt.” He replied, cupping her cheek tenderly. “I meant it too. How in the world are we going to do this, sweetness? How do I go back to Gotham, after being with you like this?”

She bit her lip as she gazed down into the earnest face of John Daggett, and felt her heart clench at the thought of not having this in her life. 

As much as she’d loved Angel, and as sweet as their first time had been?

This was something so much more intensely passionate than that. 

She could see John was waiting for an answer, and she wasn’t sure what to say. 

“What is it you want from me?” She asked him quietly, “if this is just about the sex...”

He placed a finger on her lips and shook his head in admonishment.

“Can you honestly say, Buffy...look me into the eye and say that this, between us, is purely sexual?”

Her eyes raked over his, before she shook her head in the negative. 

“I can’t,” she admitted, “but, I can’t _explain_ what it is either.”

“Fair enough.” He agreed. “But I also know—if all we ever have, are these stolen moments with each other, then sex is going to take precedence, and it will never give me the chance to get to know you the ways in which I’m desperate to. I want to take you out on the town and find out all the things we have in common— I want to date you...court you...”

She giggled at that. “Please? Who uses that term anymore?”

“Well, I suppose I do.” He challenged, running his hands up and down her backside, squeezing her ass playfully before he continued. “My mom, before she died told me very seriously, that when I met the woman who completely rocked my world—I would need to treat her as the most precious jewel. To show her in both big ways and small ways, how much she meant to me. I’ve never had that desire before...not with anyone...until now.”

Buffy’s eyes widened as her mouth dropped opened into an astonished, ‘ _oh_ ’ ... just as her phone went off again. 

“Damn it!” 

“Do you need to get that?”

“Probably. Let me just see who it is? And if I don’t need to take it, we can finish this conversation, okay?”

“Deal.”

She crawled off John and blushed when she could feel his heated gaze on her backside. She picked up the phone at the fourth ring, right before it went to voicemail. 

“Faith?”

“Hey, B? Is now a good time?”

Her sister Slayer’s voice was both amused and pensive. Buffy turned to John, who was now sitting up with a frown on his face. 

“Sure. What’s going on?”

“Protocol _Stevedore_.”

“ _Shit_.”

John moved over quickly and took her arm, as he could see her visibly paling. 

This was a signal that only she and Faith had ever used, and it was done only in the gravest of circumstances. No one knew the exact particulars of their body swap. They’d decided on a code word to be used if something really bad or potentially apocalyptic was in play. Stevedore was chosen for obvious reasons, as it wasn’t a word anyone but the two of them and Giles would know.

“How bad.”

“ _Bad_.”

“I’m on my way.”

The phone shut and Buffy gazed up at John with an apologetic shrug. 

“I have to get back to Gotham.”

“Is Faith?”

“She’s okay, but this is something else.”

He nodded and then grabbed his cell phone. 

“Brett, it’s John. I’ll need wheels up as soon as you can. We’re going home.”

Buffy listed as John’s pilot said something and then he hung up the phone. 

“How does two hours work for you?”

She smiled widely and allowed him to lift her into his arms as she kissed him in gratitude. 

“Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Hey, my beautiful girl...none of that. This is what I’m here for now. Got it?”

She nodded and kissed him again, before leading them both back into the bathroom. 

Their shower was quick and John’s clothes were packed hastily. He checked out over the phone and exactly three hours from Faith’s phone call, they were walking through airport security and heading towards the private plane tarmac. 

“Have you ever joined the mile high club?” John whispered huskily into her ear as they approached his private jet, and she shook her head, smiling up and him with a knowing gleam in her beautiful eyes. 

“Wanna join it with me?”

“Is this a first?”

He nodded and she huffed out a sweet laugh. 

“Sounds like a good way to spend six hours, don’t you agree?”

His answering sly grin had her panties soaking through in anticipation.


	39. The Ugly Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to Gotham, Buffy is informed of why Violet had been drugged.

As soon as John Daggett’s plane landed, both he and Buffy were on their way to Bruce’s Penthouse, where the man in question and Faith were both waiting for them. 

When they’d arrived, Bruce was sitting on his couch, with Baba and Yaga at his feet—while Faith was outside on the balcony, staring off into the early morning dawn. 

“Has she slept?” Buffy asked, as she waltzed in. 

Bruce glanced over his shoulder in greeting, while John’s worried gaze fell to Faith.

“No. She refuses to.”

“How bad is it really?”

Bruce gazed at John again, his unspoken question causing the man to bristle. 

“I’m not being dismissed, Wayne. So don’t even think about it.”

Bruce stood up without responding and went outside to where Faith was at. Both Buffy and John could see perhaps for the first time, the genuine chemistry the two of them had. Bruce wrapped his arms around Faith from behind and whispered tenderly in her ear. Buffy saw the tension in Faith’s body deflate somewhat, as Bruce kissed her neck and then led her back inside. 

“Hey, B.” Faith welcomed with a slight yawn, then she smirked at the other man in the room. “John.”

“Faith. You really need to take better care of yourself.”

“So Bruce has been bitching at me.”

“ _And_?” He challenged. 

“Just stating facts.” She quipped up at him, and he grinned down adoringly at her. 

“If I didn’t see this for myself, I might’ve not ever believed it.” John said half-joking. 

“Oh, and what’s that John?” 

“Bruce Wayne, off the market.”

“Shut _up_ , John.”

The older man smirked and took Buffy’s hand, who was rolling her eyes at Faith’s shit-eating grin. 

“What’s going on?” Buffy queried at last, as everyone got situated more comfortably.

“Bruce and I were talking yesterday, and we discovered something pretty major.”

“Which is?”

“Violet wasn’t targeted just for mind control. She was targeted because whoever Napier was working for, was using Crane’s scopolamine drug on Violet as a test case.”

“Excuse me?” Buffy hissed, as her mind raced with the possible implications. “Are you telling me that Jack Napier was working for someone behind the scenes? Not Maroni, but someone more powerful?”

“Yes. And we think that person is affiliated with a shadow organization.”

“Which one?”

She told Buffy the same silently, and the blonde Slayer stood up enraged. “Are you _kidding_ me right now?”

“What?” John reached for Buffy, but she just moved away, pacing around the room as her mind whirred. After a moment she stopped, turned to Faith, gritting out, “Crane would know.”

“That was our thought too.”

“Excuse me,” John cleared his throat, “I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but what Organization are you talking about?”

Both Faith and Buffy turned to Bruce simultaneously, who flipped up his hand in disgust, as if he simply wasn’t going to argue about more of his secrets being exposed. 

Daggett, noticing Wayne’s irritation, scoffed. 

“Why do I get the feeling there is _more_ to your seven missing years than anyone knows, Wayne?”

Buffy grinned in admiration, while Faith snickered. 

Bruce however, just pursed his lips in consternation. 

“Because there _is_. You’re ex-military, John, right?”

The man nodded, and Faith’s eyes locked with Buffy—a brief silent exchange being shared. 

“Marines,” John said to Faith, not missing the not so subtle byplay between the two Slayers, “MARSOC specifically.”

“Special Ops, _nice_.” She hummed, and then grinned up at Bruce as he pulled her into his side rather firmly. She kissed the underside of his chin lovingly, and his answering smirk warmed her heart. 

“During my sabbatical,” Bruce began, “I trained with a group in Asia, a shadow group that when I’d first joined, led me to believe they were there to serve what they’d called, ‘ _true justice.’_ Later, I’d learned that they were more of a glorified terrorist organization, but two years ago, their leader came to Gotham to destroy the city.”

“I remember that. It was in all the papers, about the train sabotage, and the poisoning of the water supply in the Narrows.”

“Yes. Much of that was true, but there was much more to the story that _wasn’t_ printed. The leader of the organization was a man named Henri Ducard—at least, that’s how I was introduced to him. I found out later that he went by another name, which _isn’t_ important for this conversation.” He finished in warning, staring Buffy down, her expression clearly unhappy. “He was also responsible for burning down my family home.”

“The papers said you did that in a drunken rage?” John challenged and he shrugged back, but didn’t expound. 

“Faith and I have come to suspect that Jack Napier, and Crane, were working for whomever is running Ducard’s organization now.”

“Does this organization have a name, Wayne?”

“Yes,” he answered shortly, “which again, is not important here.”

John glanced over to Buffy, who wouldn’t make eye contact with him. “You know?”

“I do, but only because Faith just told me.”

John nodded before he spoke evenly, “Okay, say I’m good with not knowing the particulars for now...and it seems that for whatever reason, none of you wish to give me those particulars. It’s either because you don’t trust me,” Bruce grunted out a non-committal sound, which earned him an elbow from Faith, and a scoff from Buffy, “Or? These are very dangerous people, and you’re trying to protect yourselves and me from knowing too much?”

Bruce continued to glare at him, and John figured from what he wasn’t saying, it was likely a bit of both. 

“So now what?” He asked. 

“We need to interrogate Crane,” Faith commented fiercely, “and luckily, we have a way in to do that.”

“But how in the world are you going to get him to talk?” Buffy asked, genuinely confused and then her eyes cleared as she shook her head emphatically. “Faith, you _can’t_ ask Willow to do that, not with someone like Crane.”

“Actually, that was my first idea, B—but Bruce has a better one.”

“Which is?”

Pulling out a flash drive from his pocket, he tossed it to John. 

“What’s this for?”

“Lucius was able to reverse engineer the scopolamine in Violet’s blood and he synthesized an antidote. He’s made enough for the Slayer’s here, but more will need to be engineered. That holds the basic information you’ll need to get your team to patent it. Violet’s information, and therefore the antidote, stays with Faith and I. We will use it to generate a serum for Slayer’s only...the rest for generalized production, is yours.”

John held the flash drive in his hand and bowed his head in stunned silence. Wayne and Fox had somehow managed to do in two weeks give or take, what his team hadn’t done in two years. 

It left him feeling rather envious and somewhat irritated too.

“Any chance Fox might be willing to come work for me?”

“ ** _Not on your life!_** ” Bruce snarled out, causing him to lift his head up to angry hazel eyes, that were boring into him. Wayne’s posture was rigid, and John realized he was at this moment, looking at Batman, not Bruce Wayne. 

He placed both palms up and chuckled, “I get the message.”

“ _Do you?_ ”

“Bruce...” Buffy’s voice held a warning edge, but at Faith’s firm head shake, she immediately backed down. 

“Look Daggett, whilst we don’t run in the same business circles usually, there are three things I will never compromise on, nor allow anyone to use against me. Faith and by extension our child, Alfred and Lucius. All are indispensable and completely _**off limits.** _ Am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good.”

“Are we done with the testosterone?” Faith bantered, “Cause we could still get that tape measure out, Krasivyy.”

“ _Faith..._ ” Bruce’s voice dropped two octaves as he gripped her chin and made direct eye contact, his not so subtle head shake had her pouting. 

“Fine.”

“You two,” Buffy snarked, “Get a room.”

“Pot...”

“Kettle...”

Both Slayers grinned and then Faith asked silently, “ _So? Did you fuck him in the dance club?”_

Buffy’s bright blush outed her, and Faith’s grin widened before glancing over at John—who looked completely unapologetic.

“Told you.” Was all she said. 

“Yeah, yeah...” Buffy waved her off, “Back to our original programming. How are we getting in to see Crane, and how do we make him talk?”

“I have that covered.” Bruce admitted with a sigh. “Willow is going to make sure we get in and out undetected.” 

“And just when are we doing this?” Buffy demanded. 

“Dent doesn’t want to remove Crane from Blackgate since he’s a flight risk, but he did agree to have him moved to a secure holding area. I’m going in as Batman and Faith will be using her costume as well.”

“And you really think you’re going to be able to get the creep to talk?” John asked, disbelieving. 

“We do. We get one shot at this, so we have to make it count.” Faith replied, then turned to Buffy. “The girls are all downstairs. I had them come here last night. We need to go talk to them.”

“Fine.” 

Buffy stood up and nodded to Bruce. When she walked past John, he reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before watching both Buffy and Faith head downstairs. When they were gone, he was left alone with Wayne—who seemed to be considering him closely. 

“So, you and Miss Summers?” Bruce drawled out lowly. 

“Yes.”

“You move _fast_.” 

There was an edge to Wayne’s comment that just didn’t sit right. 

“I’m _sure_ there’s a question there?”

“Just a causal observation, John. You spent weeks sniffing around Faith, not that you got anywhere mind you. But somehow, I’m just supposed to believe that your interest in Buffy is genuine?”

“What Buffy and I have is no ones concern but our own.” 

Bruce leant forward, placing his forearms on his upper thighs, his posture radiating restrained aggression. 

“Normally, I’d agree. However, Faith might have a different take on it. Her past with Buffy, by all accounts, has been rather contentious, but deep down those two women care deeply for each other. When Buffy found out about Faith and the baby and how poorly I’d handled it, she slapped me. That is not the action of someone who doesn’t care. But where Buffy is more diplomatic, Faith is _not_. If you end up hurting Buffy, Faith will feel responsible because that’s what she does. She puts the blame on herself, whether it’s deserved or not and frankly, I don’t want to see that happen. You claimed to care about Faith, even going so far not too long ago in offering to raise _my son_ , as your own. So you’ll have to forgive me if I seem to think your motives are suspect.”

John sat back utterly dumbfounded. 

He’d never even garnered a thought that Faith might take something like that on herself. 

And as much as he cared for Faith, he had no intentions of walking away from Buffy. 

He’d only been with her for a very short period of time, but he knew himself well enough to know that he’d never had this kind of connection with anyone in his life. 

And he’d be damned, if he was going to give it up or walk away because Bruce Wayne didn’t trust his motives. 

Then another thought registered, as he blurted out dumbly, “A _son_?”

Bruce scoffed. “ _That_ was your take away?”

“How in the world could it be possible to know that already?”

“That’s not your concern, but trust me when I tell you it’s true.”

John averted his gaze, and felt his jaw instinctively clenching at the thought. As much as he’d told himself that he’d come to terms with his own inability to have a child, the thought still rankled. 

“I suppose I should offer my congratulations?”

“Are you?”

“Would you believe me even if I did?”

“Not likely.”

“Then I won’t bother.”

Bruce tilted his head back, and John could see the man mentally counting to himself, probably reaching for a level of patience and calm that he didn’t necessarily feel at this precise moment. 

Then another thought struck him. 

“Faith didn’t tell you, did she?” He queried hesitantly.

Hazel eyes fixated back on blue, as Bruce drawled, “Tell me what?”

Gripping his hands together and twisting them slightly, he replied evenly, “I’m not able to have children of my own.”

It took a second for the truth of his words to register with Wayne, and when they did the man’s expression morphed into something almost sympathetic.

“How?”

“Roadside bomb in Afghanistan. I was twenty-one. Our Humvee rolled down a ravine and my best friend was killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” Was all he was willing to say. 

He’d never gotten over the loss of George, and the fact that he’d died leaving his girlfriend and son alone, had left him feeling even more guilt for surviving. When Julia had died seven years later from an undiagnosed congenital heart condition, their son Zacharias, was left with only his grandmother for a guardian and John—who took financial care of them both. 

He’d done so, out of obligation and love for his best friend, who’s final words begged him to take care of his family, and because George had been a brother in all but blood, he’d agreed. 

Then Julia’s mom had passed, when Zac was sixteen—the exact same age as he’d lost his own mother. It was then that he’d decided with Zac’s permission, to give the kid his last name and he’d never regretted it.

Until he’d found out why Zac had been targeted. 

No one had known that Zacharias wasn’t really his nephew by blood, and no one had ever asked any probing questions about their connection and he had hired a good lawyer to take care of all the legal particulars.

Since he’d never be able to have a child of his own, with Zac—he had an heir. 

And that had been enough. 

Suddenly, a part of his heart felt a burning emptiness and knowing that he’d never have a real family of his own. 

The two men sat in awkward silence until Faith returned about fifteen minutes later. 

“Well, the kiddos have been taken care of for now. Did Lucius say when he’d be stopping by with the stuff?”

“Later today.” Bruce replied, as he set his paper down again. 

“Where’s Buffy?” John inquired curiously. 

“She’ll be up in a minute. She’s on the phone with Dawn.”

He nodded, and then stood up. “I should probably head back to mine and take care of some business.”

“You can go down and say goodbye to B, if you want?”

“Sure, I think I’ll do that.”

Faith watched Daggett leave with a pinched expression, and when the elevator door closed, she turned the force of her stare on her boyfriend. 

“What?” Bruce asked, his own expression surprisingly calm. 

“You said _something_ to the poor guy, what was it?”

“I just wondered about at his apparent fickleness when it comes to his intentions.”

“Because he was pursuing me, and now he’s obviously banging Buffy?”

Bruce choked out a stunted cough, before he smirked up at his girlfriend. 

“ _Banging_?”

“Whatever,” she mocked, “would you rather I use a more colorful metaphor? I’m sure I could find one.”

“ _No_ , Gorgeous...I think I get the visual just fine, thanks.”

She settled herself next to Bruce and gazed up at him questioningly. “You think he’s not sincere?”

“I can’t really tell with John. He did share with me about his inability to have children, which you’d never thought to mention.”

“That was told to me in confidence, Bruce—and not something someone just brings up willy-nilly in polite conversation.”

“Hmmm, perhaps.”

She took Bruce’s chin in her hand and tilted his head down, so that she could see his face better. 

“What is bothering you, really? Is it that you think he’s still holding a torch for me, he’s using Buffy or something else?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Bruce admitted. “I’m having Lucius dig a bit more thoroughly into John’s background. If he knows our secrets...”

“You want to know all of his?”

Bruce sighed, but nodded in resignation. “Yes.”

“Well, I suppose that’s only fair.”

“You’re not upset?”

She was taken aback. “Why would I be?”

“I don’t know? I just thought you’d be more willing to give the guy a pass.”

“Bruce, there are two people in this world I trust absolutely. Angel and now, you. No one gets a free pass with me. I’m not wired that way, so if your gut is telling you to do this for your own piece of mind? Who am I to judge?”

He chuckled in admiration. “You know, Gorgeous—every time I expect you to react or act in a certain way? You continually surprise me.”

“Is that a good thing?”

He smiled and nodded. “It’s the _best_ thing, Gorgeous. Something tells me I’ll _never_ be bored with you around. You’ll keep me on my toes.”

“Among other things.” 

She grinned up playfully, as she ran her finger down the front placket of his slacks before gently cupping his package and rolling it into her hand with purpose. His mouth quirked up with a knowing smirk, before he ran his hand through her thick locks and then, pulled her into a bruising kiss. 

When they broke apart with a mutual gasp, she opened her mind and urged, “ _Let’s go upstairs? I’d like you to fuck me now.”_

“As you wish.” He grinned, before scooping her up into his arms, with Faith laughing the entire way upstairs to his bedroom. 


	40. Saving Faith’s Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith finally shares her past with Bruce.

As the rest of the week progressed, Lucius had indeed, stopped by later the same day Buffy had returned from London, and had inoculated all the Slayer’s with the antidote he’d generated. Buffy had spent most of her evening with John, while Faith and Bruce remained vigilant, waiting for Rachel to give them the go ahead to interrogate Crane.

Annette had visited on Tuesday and had spent the entire day with her entourage going over designers, clothes, shoes, and accessories. Faith had picked out a veritable wardrobe, including some designs that could work for maternity wear. 

Bruce had handled the cost of the wardrobe, per Annette—but Faith had finally committed to a schedule and a fee for working with Annette that seemed to work well for the both of them. The woman in question had even brought back all the original items that Faith had initially liked, and those were now hanging in her closet.

The word from Rachel however, didn’t come down until late Wednesday, that everything would be in place by the next evening. 

Bruce, Faith, Willow and Buffy all sat inside of Bruce’s Penthouse to work out the logistics. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me there?” Buffy demanded. “Even as backup?”

“No, B,” Faith replied seriously, “the last thing we need is someone associating you with Batman or me.”

“They’re calling you ‘ _The Catwoman’_ in the papers, did you know?”

She snorted, but Bruce was amused. They’d been out only once this week, and took down some low level enforcers from what was left of Maroni’s operation. The man himself was sitting in Blackgate, awaiting trial. 

“Whatever,” she derided, “it’s not as if they don’t have better things to report on... _Oh_! They really don’t, do they?”

Both Buffy and Willow were rolling their eyes at Faith’s drama antics, but Bruce just hummed in agreement as he too, abhorred the press. 

“Have they let up on trying to get an interview?”

“No,” she admitted with a belabored sigh, “Eric, Bruce’s PR guy, has been fantastic trying to keep all that stuff away from me, but I need to find someone and apparently, he did manage to find someone.”

“That’s great Faith!” Willow declared, “Why do you look so unhappy about it?”

She bit her lip and averted her gaze, and both Buffy and Willow could see how uncomfortable she was. 

Bruce decided to speak up. 

“Roger Wyndham-Pryce.”

“What?” Buffy whispered in shock. “Are you _joking_?”

“Really not, B. I have Angel looking into it. I just can’t imagine he’s not after some sort of...”

“Revenge?”

Faith shrugged, but Bruce appeared confused as he bit out, “ _Revenge_?”

All three women looked uncomfortable, but Faith decided to bite the bullet. 

“It’s a long story.”

A lifted eyebrow at that comment from her boyfriend, had her grimacing in defeat. 

“Why do I feel there’s so much more to this?” Bruce demanded. 

“Cause there usually is?”

“Maybe we should give you both some privacy?” Willow offered, while Buffy just gave Faith a pitying look. 

She didn’t reply, nor did she say anything when Buffy and Willow bailed—leaving her and Bruce alone. Several minutes passed before she stood up and walked outside onto Bruce’s balcony, taking in the evening air and staring up into the sky. She was so engrossed in her own demons, she didn’t immediately notice Bruce had followed her outside, until his strong arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her into the safety of his warm embrace. 

“ _Talk to me,_ Gorgeous.” He whispered pleadingly. 

It was another few moments before she found her voice and when she spoke, Bruce didn’t think he’d ever heard her sound so...

... _haunted_...

“Wesley was a _good_ guy. When I first met him he was _green as fuck_ , and completely not ready to be a Watcher, but his Dad was one too. Well respected by Quinton, who headed up the IWC back when Buffy and I were teenagers. I’ve never met Roger Wyndham-Pryce, but based on Wesley and how much of an eager beaver he was, I’d pretty much assumed the guy was a right piece of work. After Gwendolyn’s death, I spiraled. I was angry at B for lying to me, for not telling me about her and Angel’s fucked up romance. I blamed her, and Angel by extension, for making me lose another person I saw as a potential parental figure, and I lashed out.”

“How?” He queried quietly. 

“I went rogue. Decided to switch teams and work for the bad guys. The Mayor of Sunnydale...his name was Richard Wilkins and he was many things, but oddly, probably the closest thing I’ve _ever_ had to a Father figure in my life. He had a plan to ascend to become a demon, and destroy Sunnydale...but at that point I really didn’t care. I was broken and hurt, and I wanted everyone to hurt too.”

“That’s understandable.”

“ _Is it?_ Because I’ve got to tell you, Bruce...I think there’s still some days that Buffy, Giles and Willow still resent me for my choices back then.”

“It’s because they’ve never had to deal with that level of pain and rage, Gorgeous. They’ve never truly been broken with no one to break their fall.”

She considered his words and then nodded slowly, but didn’t reply to his assertion. 

She just forged ahead...

“Before the ascension, I went after Angel. Shot him with a poisoned arrow, and only the blood of a Slayer could heal him. Buffy decided she would sacrifice me to him, and we fought.”

“And she stabbed you?”

“Yeah. Gutted me like a fish. But what I’d never told anyone was, I _let_ her win. Even then, there was a part of me that knew I was broken and didn’t want to go on.”

“ _Faith_...”

“It’s okay, Bruce. I don’t feel that way anymore, but I needed to give you some context so you’d understand what came after.”

“Okay.”

“I was in a coma for about a year. When I woke up, I’d quickly realized the world had moved on and I’d been forgotten once again. Buffy and Angel had broken up. He’d left for Los Angeles, and Buffy was in college, dating some beef stick college kid.”

Bruce chuckled at the moniker. 

“She’d nearly killed me for Angel, her great love and yet...”

“I get it.” Was all he said, and she hummed softly. 

“I _didn’t_. I was so pissed and when I confronted Buffy again, I might’ve used a magical device Richard left me to swap bodies with her.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I ran around town for a few days as Buffy. I might’ve slept with her boyfriend too.”

She smirked when she felt Bruce’s arms tighten around her a bit, but all he asked was, “Payback?”

“Maybe...probably...”

“Did it help or hurt?”

“Both?”

He nodded and she _knew_ deep down, that Bruce would understand this next part. He wouldn’t judge her nor her weakness...and that made her heart clench with that foreign emotion again. 

“I went to Los Angeles after I’d gotten my body back. The Senior Partners at Wolfram and Hart, hired me to kill Angel—offered me fifteen thousand dollars but by that point, I was **done**. I wouldn’t have ever allowed a random vamp or demon to take me down, but it seemed kinda poetic forcing Angel to do the deed. So I kidnapped Wesley and tortured him, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t kill him. Angel and I fought, and...I unleashed my full powers at him...but he knew what I was after, even when I begged him to kill me.”

Bruce hissed in a soft breath, holding onto Faith tighter—staring out into the night as he listened to her labored breathing. 

“He wouldn’t do it?”

“ _No_. He chose to save me instead. Buffy showed up in Los Angeles during that time, and she was out for revenge after what had happened with Riley, her boyfriend. The Watcher’s council had also sent their special ops team to kill me, with the help of Wesley—which wasn’t the first time he’d tried that move. In the end, Wesley chose not to give me up, and Angel sided with me against Buffy. Told her that revenge wasn’t the answer, and he needed to save my soul. He was the _only one_ who believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. I went to jail for a time and tried to get my head back on right. When Angel lost his soul and Angelus re-emerged, I broke out and saved him, with Wesley’s help. Wesley had given me a special serum so when Angel and I fought, I let him win knowing he would bite me. He did. The serum almost killed me but when Angel re-emerged his mind linked with mine and he convinced me not to let go. I was ready to die, but Angel saved me again. Then I went back to Sunnydale to help Buffy fight the First Evil. After that, I left for Boston...then to Cleveland with Robin, and for a time things were better. But he cheated and I found myself diving back into my shell, like I’d had when I was back at the orphanage. When Angel contacted me in 2004, I went to Los Angeles to help him fight the Senior Partners, we won—but Wesley and Gunn died, and afterwards—Angel was given Wolfram and Hart to run by the Powers that Be. As a thank you, he used some black magic mojo to erase my past...well, the more unsavory parts of it, before I went back to Cleveland.” 

“That’s why the two of you are like siblings?”

She nodded. “Angel saw himself in me. He knew that I had no one who would brave the darkness for me and he wasn’t willing to allow me to give up on myself. I owe him _everything_.”

“You love him.”

“Yeah, like a brother.”

“You do realize, Faith—that Buffy wasn’t entirely blameless either.”

She snorted. “Try telling _her_ that. We are better, and have buried the hatchet for the most part...but there’s a large part of her that resents my bond with Angel. I won’t apologize for it, though.”

“And you shouldn’t have to.”

She turned around in Bruce’s arms and tilted her head up, giving him an inscrutable look.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Does it change the way you...”

He shushed her and shook his head in the negative. 

“Gorgeous, I would be a hypocrite if I judged you in any way, shape or form. My past isn’t exactly stellar and whilst there are lines I haven’t crossed, I have crossed _many_. I’ve enacted my own form of retribution, I’ve punished those whom I’ve felt deserved it. The darkness in me is a living, _breathing_ thing. I have to remind myself constantly that there are lines I won’t cross to achieve my goals, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to you here and now—that I’ve been sorely tempted to do so on more than one occasion.”

“Being tempted is one thing, Bruce—but I’ve _acted_ on those impulses and lived in the darkness, until it nearly swallowed me whole.”

“Okay, fair enough. But you’ve also found redemption and fought the good fight. Those girls downstairs, they look up to you because unlike Buffy, you’ve seen both sides. The good and the bad. Faith, sometimes it takes more courage to own up to your mistakes, atone and start again. No one is perfect, we are all flawed in someway. But where there’s life, there’s hope. That’s why I came back to Gotham. That’s why I chose to try and save the city from the death and destruction that’s plagued it for so long.”

“Even at the expense of your own happiness?”

He shrugged. “I might’ve thought that at one time, but sometimes life gives us something _infinitely better_ when we least expect it. Sometimes karma, rewards our sacrifices. The Powers that Be gave you this calling for a reason. I have to believe that they knew how strong you are and that you’d emerge on the other side to fight for what’s right. Tell me this? Is there anything on this earth that would ever tempt you back down that rabbit hole again?”

“ **No**.”

He couldn’t help but grin at how emphatic Faith sounded with that simple, singular word. 

“And that’s why you’re extraordinary.”

Cupping Faith’s face, he gently wiped a few stray tears that had managed to roll down her cheeks as she looked up at him with those deep brown eyes that had captured his heart and soul. 

“You aren’t just saying that?”

“Well, I did just say it...but no. I meant every word, Gorgeous. I love you.”

“Shit.” She choked out a strangled sob, as that crazy feeling in her chest reared up its ugly head again. “I’m so afraid you’re going to change your mind, Krasivyy.” She whispered out in pained confession. “That you’re going to wake up one morning and decide that this with me, isn’t what you want anymore.”

“Faith...”

“I can’t help it.” 

“I know.” 

He wrapped Faith into his warm embrace, cupping the back of her head to his chest as he held her close. Every few seconds he’d kiss the crown of her head, but for this moment no words needed to be spoken. He just wanted her to feel his presence and hopefully offer her some reassurance that he was solid and steady...

...and there for her.

Faith for her part, just burrowed into the safe haven of the man she’d come to depend on. He was so much more than the shallow billionaire she’d thought he was, when they’d first met. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice small and shaky. 

He just kissed the crown of her head tenderly and replied back simply, “You’re more than welcome, Gorgeous.”


	41. So In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith finally admits her feelings.

Buffy had reminded Faith at least three times before they’d left for Blackgate, that breaking Crane in two, was _not_ an option. 

She had scoffed, and then replied waspishly that kind of thinking was _unimaginative_. 

Both Bruce and John had smirked, but Buffy remained unamused. 

Lucius had come through, and had ordered several new vehicles for Wayne Enterprises, and one had been a blacked out Mercedes 300SL, fully bulletproofed and tinted for privacy. 

It was also unregistered.

Bruce and Faith had taken said vehicle to the outskirts of Blackgate, and due to some Slayer recon, and Willow’s Wiccan mojo, they found a way into the prison undetected. Once inside, and fully dressed in their nocturnal persona’s, they met up with Rachel and Dent. 

“Are you sure you can get him to talk?” Dent asked.

“We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.” Batman growled lowly. 

“He’s been in isolation since his trial, his attorney feels his life would be in danger in general population. There’s been several unsubstantiated threats.”

“Has Maroni put the hit out on him?” Faith purred deeply. 

“Someone has, that’s all we know.” Rachel clarified, as they headed for the interrogation room. “You’ll have ten minutes. Will that be enough?”

Batman nodded. “Yes.”

When they reached the one-way mirror, they could see Crane sitting inside the room cuffed to the table in front of him. 

They’d discussed with Lucius how to administer the drug, and the first suggestion was putting it into something that could be consumed, but the problem with that was the route of metabolism. It would simply take too long to take effect. The next suggestion was to inject it, but with both Harvey and Rachel there, there would be no plausible way to get that close to Crane without exposing their intent. 

Which left inhalation of the drug. 

So Lucius, encapsulated the serum into a gaseous form and since both Bruce and Faith were inoculated with the antidote, there would be very minimal risk of exposure for them. 

Walking inside the room, Crane’s eyes widened when he noticed Faith in her catsuit, and then cleared when he saw Batman strolling in. 

“Huh, I’d wondered just how long it would take you both to come for me.”

Batman moved over in front of the window while Faith moved like a panther right next to Crane and broke the capsule right under his nose before he could take his next breath. 

He coughed violently, just as Batman moved away and Faith was already sitting across from him in the other chair... 

... _waiting_. 

She could sense Crane’s initial panic, as his emotional state was heightened by the attack, but it didn’t take long for it to subside, and then she asked simply, “So Mr. Crane? Or would you prefer I call you Johnathan?”

“You can call me whatever you want to, little pussy.”

She tinkled out a soft laugh, while Bruce scowled deeply. 

“Tell me about Violet. Who sent you to make contact with her?”

She could feel Crane’s emotions flitter, as he clearly didn’t want to answer the question, but when he opened his mouth, the word, “ _Talia_ ” came out. 

“And who is Talia?”

“Talia al Ghul.”

She glanced up at Bruce, and could see and sense his anger rising. 

“Ra’s has a sister?”

“No, a daughter.”

“Does she run things now?”

“Yes.”

“Where can we find her?”

“You don’t. She finds you.”

“Hmmm, and Violet. What was the play? What did Talia want you to do with Violet?”

“To gain her trust, and then control her.”

“Why?”

“She wanted to create an army.”

“An army of Slayers?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“My drug.”

“Scopolamine?”

“Yes, but better.”

“How? How could you have improved upon perfection?” Faith purred.

“I found a way to combine Scopolomine and Halcion together. It competitively binds with memory receptors, and makes the subject open to _any_ suggestion, while retaining no memory of that suggestion. A trigger word is used, and from there an order is given.”

“And how does it prevent healing?”

“It _doesn’t_. That’s part of the suggestive technique. Opening the patient up to mind control and the power of brainwashing. The patient will believe what you tell them to. _The physical is only the manifestation of the mental._ ”

“Tell me about Jack Napier. Were you working directly with him?”

“No. He was controlled by Talia. He took his orders directly from her.”

“How did Jack get in contact with Talia.”

“You don’t. She finds you.” Crane’s eyes settled on Faith and he grinned manically. “She will find you and she will _destroy_ you.”

Batman tapped Faith on her shoulder, so she asked another question, “Is Talia working with anyone else?”

“Bane.”

She gazed up at Bruce again, and he subtly shook his head in the negative. 

He didn’t know that name. 

Neither did she. 

“Bane and Talia? Are they human or other?”

“Talia is human, Bane is _more_.”

“What do you mean _more?”_

“More than human. Part man, part machine, part _other_...”

“Thank you, Johnathan.” 

She then opened her mind and said silently, “ _When you leave here, you will request to go into General Population immediately. Nod if you understand.”_

Crane did so and she smiled and stood up, ignoring Bruce’s sharp gaze as he led her from the room. 

“How did you get him to talk?” Dent queried. 

“I have that affect on people.” Faith purred in amusement. 

“Do I need to know whom this Talia is?”

“You’ll need to keep this locked down, Dent.” Batman growled. “If I’m right, then she will seek to try and finish the work her Father tried over two years ago.”

“To destroy Gotham?” Rachel asked and he nodded. 

“You’ll keep us in the loop?” Dent demanded. 

“Of course.”

“Oh, by the way? We finally got a positive ID on the Joker’s remains from the warehouse explosion this morning.”

“That’s good news.” Batman gritted out deeply.

No more words were spoken until they got back out to their car, and were heading back towards Gotham Towers. 

“Share.” Bruce challenged. 

“What would you like to know, Krasivyy?”

“At the end, when Crane nodded at you?”

“Yes.”

“You linked your mind with his?”

“Yes, I might’ve given the jerk a suggestion or two.”

“And that would’ve been?”

“For him to request to be put in general population.”

“Faith...”

“ _Don’t!”_ She turned to Bruce and scowled. “He nearly killed Violet and if there _is_ a hit out on him, then this way we can smoke it out. So Crane is taking one for the team and I’m using him as bait.”

He didn’t comment, as he couldn’t find fault with Faith’s logic, even if it did potentially put Crane in mortal danger. 

“Did you have this planned ahead of time?”

“No. The idea came to me while I was sitting there, after what Dent shared.”

He hummed, but figured that made sense. 

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or not?”

“That’s on you, Bruce. Did you honestly think that I was going to sit by and not try and find a way to make him pay?”

“No. That’s not who you are.”

“Damn right, it’s not.”

The rest of the ride back to Bruce’s Penthouse was filled with a tense sort of silence and it wasn’t until they were in the elevator that he spoke up. 

“Faith?”

“Yeah?”

He held out his hand and she stared at it for a split second before sighing and allowing Bruce to take her within his arms. 

“You have every right to want Crane to pay for what he did to Violet, but please do me a favor?”

“What?” She mumbled into his chest, breathing in his intoxicating smell. 

“Don’t blame yourself for what happened to Violet.”

Deep brown eyes lifted to his, and he could see the recriminations flittering through Faith’s expression. 

“How am I supposed to not blame myself?”

“I don’t have the answer for that, but I do know that the only people to blame in this situation are the ones who harmed Violet. Crane is in jail and Jack is dead, so that just leaves...”

“Talia and Bane.”

“Yes.”

“Did you know Ra’s had a daughter?”

The elevator door dinged opened and he led Faith into his panic room, removed his suit and watched as she removed her’s and then moved out to his bedroom where they sat down comfortably on his sofa by the window. 

“No. He did however, tell me about his wife.”

“Oh?”

“Only that she’d been killed and that was how he’d ended up in the mountains in Nanda Parbat. At the time he’d confided to me, I didn’t know he was Ra’s—I still knew him as Ducard.”

“Why do you think he kept his true identity a secret?”

“That’s a very good question.” He hummed out thoughtfully. 

He’d actually never considered that there might’ve been another reason behind Ra’s duplicity, other than his desire to keep his true identity secret. It definitely made him more mobile and easier to recruit, but it did make sense now that he was thinking about it, how Ra’s had been able to procure his release from the Bhutanese jail so easily. 

A comfortable silence fell between them as they cuddled together and it wasn’t until the Penthouse phone rang, and a few moment later Alfred came upstairs and the spell was broken. 

“Who is it, Alfred?”

“Miss Buffy, Master Wayne.”

“Send her up.”

About thirty seconds later, Buffy walked in—surprisingly alone. 

“Hey, B.”

“Hi. I just wanted to get an update.”

“Sure.” 

Faith waved her over and Buffy sat down, watching her sister Slayer snuggling with her boyfriend. It still amazed Buffy that Faith had managed to find happiness with Bruce Wayne, of all the men in the world. But the more time she spent with the two of them, the more obvious their connection was. 

“So, did the stuff Lucius make work on Crane?”

“Like a charm.” Faith replied evenly, and Buffy quirked her head in confusion. 

“Then why don’t you sound happier about it?”

Faith glanced quickly to Bruce and he sighed, then spoke, “We found out that the person behind Violet’s abduction as well as Crane and Jack Napier is the daughter of the man who nearly destroyed Gotham two years ago.”

“Ra’s al Ghul. The leader of the League.”

“Yes.”

“And this woman’s name?”

“Talia al Ghul.”

“Anything else about her that might be helpful?”

“She’s working with someone named, Bane. Crane said he was part man, part machine and part other...”

“So a demon?”

“Maybe.”

Buffy’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Sounds like Adam.”

“Who?” Faith bit out. 

“Long story but the Cliff Notes version was, Adam was created by the underground military militia that Riley was a part of back during my first year of college.”

“The one that put that chip in Spike’s head?” Faith huffed out and Buffy smirked. 

“The same. He told you?”

“Yeah. Angel might’ve mentioned something to the effect that he’d wished that Spike still had that chip in his head and it could be programmed to make him go away.”

Buffy snorted. “Those two...”

“I know. You’d think they’d just cop to the fact that they’re more alike than they’d ever want to admit and they need each other.”

“Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen.” Buffy snarked. “I’ll get Willow on the research. If there’s any kind of paper trail, she’ll find it.”

“Crane said that Talia found him. So that means that she was the one who controlled the contact, right?” She gazed up at Bruce and he considered that and nodded. 

“Perhaps.”

“So maybe that’s a place to start?”

“What do you mean, Faith?”

“Crane had to have some sort of electronic trace...a cell phone, email, laptop. Did the police ever find out where he was hiding out?”

Bruce shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“You know who might know?”

“Who?” Bruce wondered. 

“The Chechen. He was running Crane’s drugs, so he’d have to have a way to contact him, or might know where Crane was holed up?”

“Maybe,” Bruce replied, “but what if Crane’s base of drug operations was the one that blew up?”

She bit her lip as she considered that, but then shook her head.

“I don’t buy that. That would’ve potentially compromised that location if there was some way to track it. Maybe Maroni? Have Dent and Rachel gone through and done a forensic accounting of all his stuff?”

Bruce was take aback, as he quirked a grin at his girlfriend.

“How do you know that term?”

“Eh, I only watched those real life cop shows. Unsolved crimes, mysteries. They make for good theatre, but a lot of that stuff is based on real life cop work too.”

“Is that what you did in Cleveland?” Buffy inquired.

“You mean when I wasn’t Slaying?” She asked and Buffy nodded. “I did a few things to pass the time. I wasn’t a shut in the whole time I was there, I’ll have you know. My landlady was a nice Russian woman, who used to make me Pelmini every Thursday and Piroshki’s on Sundays.”

“Oh?” Bruce grinned. “What happened to her?”

“She passed away about three months before I came to Gotham.”

“Is that why Giles?”

“Yeah.” Faith nodded. “I wanted her to have a nice burial. She had no family, and nothing really. She never asked questions of me, and always made sure I had something homemade to eat every week.”

“What was her name?” Bruce asked. 

“Svetlana Muskova.”

“She sounds like a wonderful person.”

“She really was one of a kind.” 

Buffy didn’t know what to think about this new information. Everything she’d thought of Faith over the years had been obliterated these past few weeks. She’d blamed Faith a lot, for much of the bad stuff that had happened in Sunnydale, and with Angel. Then to come to find out that Jack Napier had instigated so much in Faith’s life...her downward spiral a direct result of his machinations—made her feel even worse. 

It was going to be a hard pill to swallow for a while. 

“I should get going.” Buffy said stiffly as she stood up. “You still going to the ballet on Saturday?”

“Yep,” Faith replied obliquely, “should be a real hoot. The press will probably be there with bells on. I’m so looking forward to being on the front page of every newspaper come Sunday.”

“Well, if you didn’t want the notoriety, you should’ve thought twice about outing your heritage, Faith.”

“Bite me, Buffy. Just because I hate the attention, doesn’t mean I’m going to deny my heritage or what my prababushka sacrificed. The sad part is, I’ll never know how she survived or why she did. There’s so many questions I have, and I’ll probably never have a single answer. The one that haunts me the most, is what would’ve happened if my sperm donor had never discovered the truth about my Mom’s family. Would my mom still be alive today? So yeah, some stuff sucks, but I’ll deal because I owe it to my prababushka, babushka and my mom—to honor their memories and do something good with the Romanov name.”

“I’m sorry, Faith. I didn’t mean to belittle what you’ve been through.”

“ _Didn’t you?_ ” Bruce replied softly, as he felt the weight of Faith’s gaze on him, but his focus was solely on Buffy. “Buffy, I get that you’ve been through some things that no one can imagine. Sacrificing yourself, dying, being ripped from eternal rest is something that none of us will ever understand. But you don’t have the corner locked on pain and suffering. Is there any part of you that feels that perhaps, you owe Faith an apology for how you’ve hurt her in the past?”

Buffy just stared at Bruce as she pondered his words. When she turned her attention to Faith, she could see her sister Slayer’s expression closing off and she sighed. 

“Look, Bruce...I get that you feel a responsibility to protect Faith and I commend you for that...but our past is complicated. Yes, what happened to Faith was horrible and yes...much of what she suffered was due to Jack Napier, but the truth is, we still are responsible for our choices. Faith made her choices for good or bad. She made the choice to try and kill Angel, and she made the choice to sleep with my boyfriend in my body, she made the choice to torture Wesley and she made the choice to help Richard Wilkins.”

“That’s true.” Bruce admitted. “But you made the choice to purposefully leave Faith out of knowing about your dynamic with Angel, and before you argue that it wasn’t her place...she was called to be a Slayer same as you, Buffy. You had friends to help you, and a Watcher. Tell me Buffy? Do you ever think for one moment, that you could’ve survived without their help?”

“No.”

“And yet you isolated Faith. Whether it was due to your own jealousy, insecurity, or inability to share the calling with her—only you can answer that. Tell me something? When you found out Faith was is Los Angeles with Angel, did you go there to try and help, or did you go there for payback?”

“Payback.” 

“And how is that different than what she did to you?” He postulated. “You may not understand Faith’s reasons, but the truth is as much as you try and deny it, there’s a part of you that still resents her. You resent the bond she has with Angel. You resent the fact that she wasn’t you, that she dealt with the burdens of being a Slayer _differently_ than you did. She didn’t have the tools, Buffy. She didn’t have the love, safety and security you did with your family and friends. Even Giles, was your Watcher. How was Faith ever supposed to compete?”

“It was _never_ a competition!” Buffy scoffed. 

“ _Wasn’t it?”_ He responded softly. “Can you honestly stand there and tell me that you’ve never once felt competitive with Faith? That there wasn’t a part of you that resented her, and having to share being the Chosen One?”

“ _ **I am the Chosen One!”**_

He lifted a knowing eyebrow and Buffy flinched, even as she glared at him with ire. 

“I think you should go, Buffy—but just a word of advice to the both of you? This calling you both have, this power you both share? This was a gift from the Powers that Be. Did either one of you ever stop and consider that there might’ve been a larger reason why after thousands of years, you two were chosen to stand together at this point and time?”

Buffy glanced over at Faith, while she just averted her gaze and bit her lip in consternation. 

“Just something I think you both need to think about. _Somehow_ , you both need to forgive each other, heal and move forward. Not just for yourselves, but for those young girls who look to you both to lead and protect them. Violet was under a form of mind control for a time. Did either one of you ever stop to think, that she might’ve shared with Crane or Jack about your tenuous dynamic and how to exploit it?”

He watched as the reality of what he was saying hit both women at the same time. 

“If I were looking for a way to come after you both, I’d use that information to my advantage. Are these hurt feelings really worth those young girls lives?”

“ _No_.” 

They both said at the same time, and he nodded in agreement.

“Then perhaps, you’ve found some common ground after all.”

Buffy and Faith made eye contact for a brief moment and then Buffy nodded and left, while they watched her leave. After she was gone, he glanced down at his girlfriend and asked, “What did she say to you, before she left?”

Faith blushed as she replied emotively, “She told me that I needed to get over myself and tell you how I feel about you.”

“Oh?” He smirked impishly, “And just how do you feel about me, Gorgeous?”

“You’re really going to make me say it, _aren’t you?”_

“Do you not want to?” He lifted her face to his and cupped her cheeks reverently. “Is it _so_ hard to admit?”

“I’ve never said the words before. Not since I was nine to my mom.”

“I understand. Would it help, if I told you that I’ve never said those words either...until I said them to you.”

“Really?” She breathed out in shock. “Not even to Rachel?”

“No. I loved Rachel, it’s true, but I could never work up the courage to tell her when it mattered. I think, it was because I was so afraid if I did, I’d lose her like I’d lost my parents.”

“You were trying to protect her from you?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t feel the need to protect me from you?”

“No. I don’t want to hide from you. For the first time since I was eight years old, I feel completely safe.”

“Wow!” 

Her eyes glistened with tears and he just watched her process—her beautiful, expressive eyes taking him in, and he could tell she was reading his emotions, feeling what he was feeling in that moment. Tears fell, like tiny crystal diamonds on her perfect cheeks, and he wiped them away lovingly, allowing Faith to have this moment to come to terms with what her heart and mind were both telling her was real. 

“I _love_ you, Gorgeous. I’m _so_ in love with you, it scares me and exhilarates me...it overwhelms me and calms me. It makes me wonder how I’ve ever lived without you in my life. You’re _it_ for me.”

“Damn!” She sobbed on a broken gasp. “I... _shit_...” she gripped onto his wrists as he held her to him, their eyes locking and sharing this defining moment. “You make me feel things I didn’t know were possible for me to feel. I’ve come to trust you in ways I didn’t think I was capable of. I was _so wrong_ about you, Bruce. I thought you were nothing more than an arrogant jerk looking for a joy ride, and yet that is so not who you are. I’ve never wanted to try before, not with anyone and yet all I want to do is be with you. It scares me how much I feel for you.”

“And what do you feel for me?”

She choked out a small laugh, and he grinned his beautiful smile which made that foreign feeling burn in her chest with a fire of a thousand suns. 

“I’m so in love with you too, and it...”

Whatever she was going to finish saying—instantly fell away as Bruce’s mouth descended eagerly upon hers, and then she felt herself being lifted into his strong arms. She clung to him as their mouths remained attached and the next thing she knew—clothes were quickly banished and then Faith felt herself falling into an abyss of sensation and emotion as Bruce made sweet love to her. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t fucking...it was just the two of them—their bodies intimately connected with Bruce’s hips swiveling into hers, as he pushed her higher and higher, until they both fell off the edge together. Words of mutual love spilling from their lips, before they spooned together as one, and fell into a blissful sleep. 

The world might descend tomorrow...and battles might be raged in the light of day or the dark of night...but for now—Bruce and Faith, had found their own little slice of perfection with each other. 

And it was _enough_.


	42. The Ballet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the Ballet brings about a myriad of surprises.

Saturday evening had finally arrived and Faith was gazing out the window of her bedroom in her bath robe, as she thought about the evening to come and what it all meant. 

For all intents and purposes, this night would be her official coming out as the Grand Duchess Nickolaevna. Harvey’s fundraiser, had been a private function, but this tonight wouldn’t be. There’d be press, and people, and all sorts of schmoozing. She would have to try her level best to be polite, interested and not want to run screaming from the room in disgust. 

She also knew that being with Bruce would engender endless speculation about their relationship. 

Huh... _relationship_...

There was a word she’d actively avoided in the past. 

At least, the kind of relationship where feelings were involved. 

More specifically, _her feelings._

That was why she liked having control, and contracts...

First, because it placed an unseen barrier between her and whomever it was she was involved with. Robin had sensed it early on, hence why he’d bailed and found someone more to his tastes...

Which if she was being honest, were much too vanilla...

He’d joked in Sunnydale after they’d had sex the first time, that it was nice...but it hadn’t exactly rocked his world...

What a load of bullshit that had been.

He’d just preferred being the one calling the shots and Faith had liked him, but didn’t trust him enough to give up her control. 

But with Bruce, she didn’t seem to have that particular reluctance. He had surprised her with his willingness to submit to her, and for the most part...their sexual life had been just that. 

She the Domina, and he the obedient.

The second fact was that Bruce trusted her to take care of him and it wasn’t lost on her how big of a concession that was for him. Faith had always been the kind of woman to take care of her submissive’s, but with Bruce, there was a level of protectiveness in how she responded to his pliancy. She wanted so badly to please him too. 

Lastly, it was hard for her to admit her feelings, but once she’d said the actual words...it had freed something closed off inside herself. They’d spent the entire night and ensuing day ensconced in Bruce’s room making love. There had been no need to use a safe word, no need to determine roles...they’d just given and taken from each other because it felt natural and right. 

And she’d found that she really enjoyed having Bruce dominate her in the ways in which he’d had. 

It had been subtle really. 

He’d go down on her and made her beg to come, or lay his body over hers as he fucked her from behind. 

She had _really_ liked that position too, never having allowed it with a partner before. She’d come so hard that she’d actually seen stars.

Bruce made her feel safe, and loved and it was scary, crazy and heady as all fuck. 

She was so in love with him, it brought reluctant tears to her eyes at the drop of a hat. 

_Damn fucking hormones..._

Sighing softly, she went to finish getting ready for the evening and hoped that she could pull off being sociable for an entire night. 

Bruce himself, was upstairs getting ready too. He was gazing at himself in his mirror as he finished shaving. Rinsing off the remainder of shaving foam, and patting down his face clean, he just smiled softly at himself in the mirror. 

He was so looking forward to tonight. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been happy to go out into Gotham Society. It was usually a chore he abhorred, but complied with because it was expected of him. But tonight was different. Tonight, he’d be walking in with the woman he loved on his arm. The woman who made him feel things he’d never even believed he was capable of feeling. Faith challenged him in so many ways, but more to the point...she made him feel safe and whole. 

_She’d healed his heart without even knowing that she’d done it._

His gaze flickered down to the box on the side table as he walked through his room and into his closet, pulling out his black tie tuxedo bag and setting it on his bed. Boxers and undershirt on, Bruce unzipped the bag and hung his tux up on his hanging rod, while he went to get a white dress shirt on. 

Fifteen minutes later, he was now fully dressed and staring at his reflection in his mirror. He looked rested. That was the first thing he noted. 

Eyes that were normally tired and haunted, now looked bright and clear. His complexion, which on a good day seemed a bit pale and sallow from lack of sleep, appeared fresh and tinged with color. _He felt good..._

And it was a new experience for him. 

_He felt happy and alive..._

Smiling softly, his eyes once again caught on the jewelry box in the mirror’s reflection. He fixed his bow tie and checked his appearance for the final time, before sauntering over and grabbing the box. Sitting on his leather chair by his window, he opened it and stared unseeingly at what was inside. 

His Mother’s pearls twinkled back at him. They were her favorite, the first gift his Father, Thomas, had ever given to her. A gift, on their formal engagement day. 

Gently touching the beloved gems, Bruce sighed softly. Of all the things he owned, these pearls were the most precious to him. He could still remember his Mother wearing these with pride, and he had vowed that someday, he would see them on the woman he knew would be his future one. 

The fact that it wasn’t Rachel, wasn’t lost on him. 

The fact that he wasn’t sorry in the least, surprised him. 

The fact that he had finally managed to get himself to this place, floored him.

But it humbled him too. 

Closing the box with a firm snap, Bruce nodded to himself. 

The beginning of the rest of his life waited for him two floors down, and he was eager for that future to begin tonight. 

He was excited to show Gotham and the World, that Faith was his, and he was hers. 

Moving downstairs, he noticed that Alfred was meandering—playing with Faith’s dogs—who were being babysat tonight by his surrogate Father. 

“Master Wayne, you look rather fashionable.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

The older man eyed the box in Bruce’s hand, and a brief smile threatened to break free. 

“Are those what I think they are?”

“Yes.”

“I do believe Miss Faith will love them. Especially when you share what they mean to you.”

“I know. Mom was photographed often wearing these, from what I remember. I just wonder...”

“Miss Faith will accept them because they mean something to you. Perhaps if you had gone and purchased something else less...”

“Yeah. I don’t think Faith will ever be one of those women who cares about such frivolous things, but she wore Anastasia’s necklace with pride, even when she’d assumed it was only costume jewelry.”

“Do you think she intends on wearing it this evening?”

“No. I might’ve asked her that question, and her feeling was that the first time she wears it in public, knowing what it is to her now—should be when she returns to Russia.”

“Ah, making a statement?”

“Something like that.”

“Should I bring the car around?”

Bruce checked his Jaeger LeCoultre Reverso Grande Taille watch and nodded. 

“I’m going to head down now, and we should be ready to leave in about thirty minutes, Alfred. 

“Very good, Master Wayne.”

Bruce got into the elevator and made the minute or so trip down two floors to where Faith’s apartment was. When he knocked on the door, he was surprised to see Buffy answering it. 

“Bruce.”

“Buffy? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just on my way out.”

“Okay, well—have a good evening.”

“You too.” The blonde Slayer smirked and then disappeared into the elevator. 

Walking into Faith’s apartment, Bruce gripped onto the box of pearls tightly, as he moved over by the window and sat down, waiting for Faith to emerge. 

Which she did about ten minutes later. 

He was able to see her before she saw him, and his breath caught in his throat as he took her in. 

_She was fucking exquisite._

The dress he’d purchased, was a one-of-a-kind Roberto Cavalli jacquard silk chiffon, gown. Both sleeves were fitted, and came down to her wrists in a pleated cuffed style. The shoulder had a slight fringe that made the neckline, which fell between her breasts, stand out in sharp relief. The top of the gown hugged her torso and then fell in waves to the floor with peek-a-boo slits on either side that showed off a whisper of tanned, perfect legs. 

Her beautiful hair was swept up in a very similar style as it had been at Harvey’s fundraiser, and her makeup like that night—was dark, dramatic and made her look like something out of a museum. 

“ _Fuck me.”_ He whispered in awe, and Faith’s head jerked up at the sound, before she smiled widely as she took him in. 

“Hello, Krasivyy.” She purred, sauntering over towards him like an apex predator. “You look good enough to _eat_.”

He grinned, his gaze raking over her form unabashedly. 

“And you are _perfection_.” He growled out sincerely. “Gods, I’m a lucky man.”

Her husky laugh had his grin widening, and then he walked around the back of her and pulled her into his body with his left hand, while the right held out the jewelry box.

“Bruce?”

“Open it, Gorgeous.” He whispered deeply into her ear. 

Faith’s gaze lifted back to his as she bit her lip gently, and then took the box with a shaky breath. 

When she opened it, her breath caught in surprise. 

“Bruce...”

“Before you protest and tell me they’re too much, or some other such nonsense...these pearls belonged to my Mom.”

“ _What?”_

Her voice was so small, he almost thought he’d imagined it. 

“My Dad gave these to her on the evening of their engagement party, and she’d loved them. She wore them often, and was photographed wearing them often.”

“And you want me to wear them tonight?”

“Well, yes I do...but I want you to _have_ them. Tonight, is the first night of the rest of our lives. Whatever happens from here on out, it’s just you and me and our family, right?”

Faith sniffled and nodded, and he could tell she was desperately trying to keep her emotions in check. 

“Will you wear these for me?” He asked emotively and she nodded again, as she took them out of the box and handed them over. He carefully opened the small diamond clasp and then said simply, “These pearls once belonged to a French Countess, and were sold at auction to my Father. I don’t know much more than that, but they are quite sentimental to me.”

Once clasped, Faith turned around and he smiled as he took in the perfect visage in front of him. 

“You are _so_ beautiful.” He whispered with such feeling, Faith felt her heart doing that funky thing again. 

“Thank you.” She said softly, as she touched the necklace and felt the weight of them on her skin, “They are perfect.”

Bruce reverently cupped her face and placed the softest kiss they’d ever shared on her lips, and Faith felt like her heart was going to rip out of her chest and start beating on the floor right in front of them both. 

How could something so simple and chaste, evoke such a feeling?

“Are you ready to stun the world, Gorgeous?” He asked seriously. 

“No, but with you by my side, I’m ready to take on the world.”

He laughed. “That works too.”

Alfred was waiting for them and as he opened the door to the Bentley for Miss Faith, he said sincerely, “I do believe those pearls look perfect on you, Miss Faith.”

She touched them again instinctively and replied kindly, “Thanks, Alfred.”

The ride to the Gotham War Memorial Opera Theatre where the Ballet was being hosted was about a fifteen minute drive. Bruce had timed it so they’d be arriving about thirty minutes before the seating admission, and as expected—when they pulled up it was _utter bedlam._

Alfred moved in front of the building and parked the Bentley, before getting out to Bruce’s side and opening the door. Shouts of ‘ _Mr. Wayne,’_ came from all directions as the lights of dozens of cameras blinded him momentarily. He walked around the car, and opened the door for Faith, her expression as disaffected as possible as the crowd roared.

“Miss Lehane!” One reporter shouted, “Can we have a moment of your time?”

“Miss Lehane, over here!”

“Mr. Wayne? Are you and Miss Lehane living together?”

“Miss Lehane, have you been in contact with any members of the Royal Family?”

The questions were endless and when Faith was clear of the Bentley, Bruce took her arm within his and walked with purpose through the throng of reporters and paparazzi, who were literally screaming at them both. 

Once they were inside, however—every eye turned their way. Faith sighed softly, and glanced up at Bruce, who was nodding to someone in the room before his hazel eyes locked with hers.

“ _Well, that was a cluster...”_ she said silently, causing Bruce’s lips to quirk in amusement. 

Then he heard someone call his name. 

“Bruce!” 

Glancing up, he guided Faith down the steps and towards an older gentleman who appeared to be about Lucius age. Dark hair, slender, with a welcoming smile on his face. 

“Doug.” Bruce shook the man’s hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” Doug replied, eyeing the beauty firmly ensconced on the Wayne Heir’s arm. “Please introduce me to this lovely lady.”

“Of course,” he offered magnanimously, “Douglas Fredericks, this is my girlfriend, Faith Lehane. Faith, this troublemaker, is a member of my Board of Directors.”

Faith smiled genuinely, and offered her hand, which Doug took and bowed over deferentially. 

“Your Grace. It is an honor to meet you formally.”

“Please call me, Faith.”

The older man smiled warmly and replied in kind, “Then I insist you call me, Doug. I’m glad to see you out and about, Bruce. I worry about you.”

“I’m trying to be a bit more sociable these days, but truthfully—we are the fortunate guests tonight of Sergei Nemerov.”

“Oh?” Doug nodded. “How did you meet him?”

“We met at the Museum Gala that John Daggett hosted a while ago.”

Doug turned to Faith and asked, “Have you been to the ballet before, Faith?”

“No, this is definitely a first for me. I’m probably a bit more of a recluse, like Bruce. But Tchaikovsky was my Mom’s favorite, so this is a treat.”

Doug went to reply, and then noticed the strand of pearls around Faith’s neck. His surprised gaze shot questioningly towards Bruce’s, and the younger man nodded proudly. 

“Oh!” Doug cleared his throat emotionally, and then patted Bruce on the shoulder. “Your Mother would’ve approved.”

“I know she would have.” He replied sincerely. 

“I’ll let you both mingle. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t, Doug. I’ll see you at the next board meeting.”

“Of course.” He then turned to Faith and said wholeheartedly, “You keep this one on his toes, young Lady.”

She smiled and nodded. “Oh, I plan on it.”

Lighthearted chuckles were shared amongst the three of them, before Doug bid them a good evening. 

Moving in the direction of the bar, Bruce heard his name being called once again. 

“Rachel.”

His best friend came over and welcomed them both warmly. 

“Where’s Harvey?” Faith asked. 

“He’s over talking with the Mayor.”

“Politics.” Faith scoffed, and Rachel tinkled out a soft huff, as she inclined her head in agreement. 

“I’m surprised you both haven’t been waylaid yet.”

Bruce glanced around again and could see many of the Gotham socialites whispering amongst each other, while some were watching both he and Faith eagerly. However, it would be considered gauche to approach without an express invitation to do so, and Bruce had no intentions of introducing Faith to anyone he wouldn’t normally bother with. 

Especially since she was technically royalty, and there were certain protocols for those kinds of things. 

Rachel then noticed Faith’s necklace and nudged him discreetly—gesturing to said item and he bowed his head in the affirmative. 

“I’m happy for you both.” Rachel whispered to him.

“Thank you, Rachel. That means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

“I just want you to be happy, Bruce—and you do look happy.” She then smiled at Faith and winked. “Keep him grounded, Faith. And if you ever need that tape measure?”

Faith’s expression brightened as a chime of sweet laughter broke free, and she nodded in commiseration, while Bruce pouted adorably. 

“I will definitely keep that in mind.” Faith said after a moment. 

“I’m not sure I like you both ganging up on me.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Faith mocked quietly, caressing his cheek, “stop pouting. You’ll ruin your pretty face.”

Rachel snorted out a chortle and then both she and Faith snickered in amusement. 

“Don’t you need to find Harvey, Rachel?”

“Sure.” 

Rachel came over and placed a gentle hand on her arm. Faith, feeling nothing but sincerity and good mojo coming from the woman, grabbed her hand and squeezed it in gratitude. 

“I’ll take good care of him.” Faith promised, and Rachel dipped her head in parting before she left to find her date. 

“That was really cool of her.” She said after a moment.

“It was.” Bruce agreed readily. “Whatever issues we’ve had over the years, Rachel has always been my best friend first and foremost. I’m just glad that after everything, that hasn’t changed.”

“Me too.”

He glanced down at his girlfriend and gently cupped her cheek, ignoring the weighted stares from everyone in their general vicinity. 

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Bruce, of course I do. A true friend is a rare find in this world. I’m just glad that what we have, didn’t cause you to lose yours.”

“Thank you, Gorgeous—but you have to know that had I been forced to choose...”

“But that didn’t happen,” she shushed him gently, “And that’s what’s important.”

“You’re right.” He said at last, taking the back of her hand that was resting on his chest, and kissing her knuckles heatedly. Their gazes were locked, and in that moment, they only had eyes for each other. 

“ _I love you_.” She said silently and Bruce’s lips lifted into a cocky smirk. 

“And I you.” He whispered back with feeling. 

At that exact moment, the lights in the atrium flashed, letting everyone know it was time to take their seats. 

When they found their spot, it was on the left side of the stage, in the first private balcony on the second level. 

Bruce led Faith to her seat, and then noted that everyone in the theatre was still standing. 

She didn’t even notice at first, but when she did—her eyes widened slightly, silently asking Bruce what was going on. 

“They’re standing for you. It’s a royal thing.”

“Oh.” 

She whispered, before nodding politely and then took her seat gracefully. Once she was seated, the rest of the congregation followed, including Bruce. 

As the lights dimmed, and the ballet started—Faith was entranced with the pageantry and beauty of the dancing. The music was ethereal, and her heart swelled with the knowledge that this was part of her heritage. She could see now, why her Mother had loved Tchaikovsky so much. She had never taken the time to investigate this part of her heritage, preferring the comfort of her favored book of Russian children’s fairytales. She had loved her mom, and her grandmother...her babushka had always read and spoken to her in Russian. Telling her the importance of her heritage and to be proud of it always. 

And it did make her proud, even after everything she’d learned these past few weeks. 

At the end of the first act, she and Bruce took a quick break and managed to make it back before the second act started. The intermission between acts two and three, had seen Bruce talking to the Mayor and his wife, who came over and reintroduced herself to Faith. 

Between the third and fourth act, Bruce had escorted her down to the bar for some sparkling water.

But it was the end of the fourth act, as the ballet ended—that the crowd stood up and applauded with relish, calling out ‘ _Brava_ ’ and cheering for each of the principal dancers in turn. 

Then Sergei finally came out with Natasha, bouquet of roses in hand—for the final curtain call. They both took their well-deserved bows to the audience, and then turned to Faith. The ensemble of the ballet followed suit, and Faith watched stunned as they all bowed and curtsied in respect to the Grand Duchess Nickolaevna. 

Faith placed a hand over her heart in gratitude, smiling joyfully—as all those in the audience cheered and the dancers applauded her too. 

She elegantly wiped a stray tear away, leaning into Bruce—who held her closely to his side, with a wide, pleased smile radiating upon his handsome face. 

Then one of the members of the ballet came up to where she and Bruce were, and presented Faith with a large bouquet of her own roses.

Taking one from the bouquet, she asked the dancer to present it to Sergei, which he did with relish. The man waved it and blew her a kiss as he left the stage, to the prolonged cheers of all those in attendance.

Bruce took her arm and escorted her out of the limelight into the private hallway, and set the flowers down on the nearest chair, pulling out a handkerchief and gently wiping away the remnants of her loss of emotional control. 

“Damn hormones.” She whispered, causing Bruce to chuckle fondly. 

“ _Sure_ , Gorgeous.”

Rolling her eyes for effect, she placed the handkerchief into her purse, just as Bruce picked up her flowers and handed them back to her. 

“What now?” She asked. 

“We should go backstage and give our congratulations.”

“Oh! Can we do that?”

Shaking his head with affection, he just led Faith down the stairs where an attendant was waiting for them. 

“Your Grace, Mr. Nemerov wishes to request your and Mr. Wayne’s presence at the after reception.”

“Of course.”

The attendant led them towards the large reception hall, where the creme de la creme of Gotham Society were gathering. 

As she and Bruce entered, all eyes were on them. Faith glanced down at her flowers and silently asked Bruce what to do with them. 

Picking up his phone, Bruce called for Alfred—who showed up about fifteen minutes later and promised to take them home and put them in some water. 

“Thanks, Alfred.”

“Of course, Miss Faith. What time shall I come back to retrieve you both?”

“An hour or so should suffice, Alfred. Faith needs to get her rest.”

“Very good, Master Wayne.”

It was a few moments later that Sergei and Natasha appeared to the cheers of the crowd. When he spotted Faith, he hurried over to greet her. 

“My Dear, Nikolaevna!”

“Hello, Sergei.”

The two exchanged the traditional Russian greeting—a kiss on the left cheek, right and then left cheek again. He then turned to Bruce and shook his hand, patting his shoulder in welcome. 

“So? What did you think of our humble performance?”

“It was _amazing_!” Faith gushed genuinely. “I had no idea that ballet could be so emotional.”

“Ah, a true convert!”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Faith said sincerely, “and thank you for the wonderful thing you did at the end. It means a lot to know that I have your support.”

“Oh, Dorogaya! This is truly a great day for Russia. To have you returned to us is a miracle! I honestly never imagined I would have seen it in my lifetime. I had hoped, of course...”

“Karl did mention how much of a help you were. I can’t thank you enough for that either.”

“Ah, I only did what was right. Anatoly would’ve wanted me to, if for no other reason than it will allow his spirit to finally Rest In Peace.”

“Would you introduce me to your dancers?”

“But of course! Come, come!”

Faith smiled widely as Sergei offered his arm and they headed for the ballet company, that were all waiting with baited breath to meet the Grand Duchess. 

“Nickolaevna, you remember Natasha?”

“Of course,” Faith nodded, and she was quick to give the ballerina the traditional greeting of friendship. 

“Ty byl izumitelen, Natasha. YA sovershenno ne predstavlyala, naskol'ko krasiv balet.“

(You were amazing, Natasha. I had no idea how beautiful ballet is)

“Spasibo, vasha svetlost'. YA znayu, chto govoryu ot imeni vsekh nas zdes', chto dlya nas bol'shaya chest' vashim prisutstviyem.”

(Thank you, Your Grace. I know I speak for all of us here, that we are so honored by your presence)

“Net, eto vse vy okazali mne chest' segodnya vecherom. YA tak nervnichal, prikhodya syuda, i vy vse zastavili menya pochuvstvovat' sebya zhelannym gostem. YA tak gorzhus' tem, chto menya vklyuchili v vash krug.”

(No, it is all of you who have honored me tonight. I was so nervous to come here and you all have made me feel so welcome. I feel so proud to be included in your circle)

The dancers all smiled to each other and nodded in pleasure at Faith’s words.

“Ty nasha Nikolaevna, nasha zvezda. Romanovy perezhivayut tebya. Eto my pochitayemy.”

(You are our Nickolaevna, our star. The Romanov live through you. It is we, who are honored)

Faith’s answering smile was radiant as she placed her hand over her heart, and all within the company returned the heartfelt gesture. 

“Vy poznakomite menya so vsemi etimi zamechatel'nymi lyud'mi?”

(Will you introduce me to all these wonderful people?)

“Konechno. Razreshite nachat' s Il'i, moyego kollegi.”

(Of course. Please, allow me to start with Ilia, my counterpart)

Faith spent a few moments with each member of the ballet, speaking in Russian and listening to a bit of their backgrounds—where their families were from, how long they’d been dancing, what things they liked to do and so forth. 

Bruce observed the awed looks of many of those there, especially when Faith had started to speak in her native Russian tongue. 

As she moved down the procession, it was clear to see that she had won the hearts of these people...her people. They were all so eager to speak with her, and she kissed each one of them in greeting as if they’d been friends for their entire lives. It didn’t seem forced nor contrived at all. At the end, she took a picture with the entire company, all of them laughing and enjoying the moment for what it was. 

Then Sergei brought out trays of Russian vodka, and each one of the company took a small glass. Bruce, went over to Sergei before he got to Faith and whispered into his ear. His eyes went wide and he nodded, going into the back and getting a separate shot glass with water in it. It looked just like the Vodka, so hopefully no one would be the wiser. 

When they all had their glasses in hand, Sergei lifted his up and said proudly, “Matushke Rossii i nashey Nikolayevne, pust' nikogda ne pogasnet yeye svet. Nostrovia!”

(To Mother Russia, and our Nickolaevna, may her light never dim. Cheers!)

“Nostrovia!” 

They all cheered as one—including Faith, as each other them drank their shot simultaneously. 

The people in the room clapped for the historic moment, knowing instinctively even if they didn’t understand the words, that the sentiment of the moment was impossible to miss. 

Sergei came over and kissed Faith again, whispering congratulations in her ear. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, so only he could hear. 

It wasn’t too long after, she and Bruce said their goodbyes and left to return home. 

In the Bentley, Bruce cuddled Faith under his arm, pulling her into his side and kissing her temple lovingly. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Shell-shocked, but in a good way.” She replied, sighing happily into Bruce’s side. “It still feels so surreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up tomorrow and find out this has been one big dream and the joke’s on me.”

“But it’s not, Gorgeous. This is your life now. Our life.” 

He hummed thoughtfully for a moment before his eyes narrowed, as a crazy idea came to him. 

“Do you think that Vladim might have some intelligence on Talia?”

“Would that even be possible?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce admitted, “but if he doesn’t at least have a lead, I’d be surprised.”

“Might be worth a phone call?”

Taking out her cell phone, she checked the time. 

“It’s almost midnight. What time would it be in Moscow?”

“Seven in the morning, I think.”

“Too early?”

“Probably not.”

Faith dialed the number, and wasn’t surprised when Vladim picked up on the third ring. 

“My Dearest, Nickolaevna! This is a surprise!” 

The words were amused, in Russian and Faith smiled. 

“A good one, I hope?” She queried in kind. 

“Of course, of course. What can I do for you? I’m assuming you require my aid to be calling me at the crack of dawn on a Sunday?”

“Actually, I do need a favor.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I came into some information recently, and Bruce thought that you might know a bit more than we do, at present.”

“About?”

“Well, it would seem there’s a woman who hired someone to kidnap one of my sister Slayers. She had this person drug her and he almost killed her. The goal was to try and create an army of Slayers. I’m sure you can imagine that didn’t sit very well with me.”

There was dead silence on the line for a full minute, before Vlad spoke up again. 

“And how did you discover this?”

“I interrogated the man who created the drug. He is in prison...but not for long I think. There’s a contract out on his head, and he was hiding in solitary confinement.”

“Was?”

“Yeah. I used his bag of tricks against him. Convinced him that hanging with the general population would be a good thing. My guess is, he won’t survive too much longer. Pity.”

The deep chuckle over the phone was to be expected. 

“You have a _vindictive_ streak.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“And he told you who his employer is?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Why don’t you guess. Something tells me you know much more about this than I do.”

“I hear things.” Was all Vladim said. 

“I’m sure you do. Trust me, you’ll be hearing a lot more things when I get my hands on this person.” She paused and then asked casually, “You wouldn’t by chance, have a current working relationship with this person?”

“No. The mindset of political zealots has never much appealed to me, Nickolaevna.”

“Do you know where I might find this person, or their lackey?”

“Lackey?”

“You know? Flunkey, skivvy, minion, underling, sycophant, _boot-licker..._.”

Vladim belted out a rich belly laugh, and Faith felt her lips quirking up at how amused he sounded. 

“You are a _treasure_ , Nickolaevna! Very well. I will tell you what I know.”

“Cool!”

“The woman you are looking for, is a former acquaintance and lover of a one Mr. John Daggett.”

Her face fell, and her breath hitched in...

Bruce, who noticed the sudden shift in her demeanor, lifted her chin and mouthed, “ _what_?”

Shaking her head, she asked quietly, “How long?”

“For a year, I believe. Whether he was aware of the lady’s true affiliations is uncertain.”

“And just how many lackeys does she have at her disposal?”

“A small force. Not quite as prolific as her Father’s, but much more despotic and engaged in chaos.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t gone after her yourself?”

“Because there has never been a reason to do so before now.”

“ _I see.”_

“Do not take that tone with me, young lady. My concerns are for our people first. As long as her mission has not interfered with Russia, I have left well enough alone.”

“You do realize, Vlad...that I’m going after her. That she will pay for what she did to my family.”

“I do realize this, Nickolaevna. That is why I am willing to share what I can, but can do no more.”

“Ever the politician, yes?”

“If you like.” Vladim sighed. “The creature that attends her. He is not all human, Nickolaevna.”

“So I’ve heard. More fun for me, I suppose.”

Another soft chuckle drifted over the phone, before Vladim said simply, “Paris. That is all I can give you for now.”

“Good enough. Thank you.”

“Of course. I will see you in November.”

“Sure. I’m looking forward to the Smettanik you promised me.”

“I am a man of my word.”

And the phone went dead. 

When Faith set her phone down in her lap, Bruce cupped her head in his hands and demanded, “What did he say?”

“He knows who she is, and what’s more? He told me that there’s someone who was involved with her, romantically.”

“Who?” Bruce growled. 

“Daggett.”

The expression on Bruce’s face was one that Faith was fairly certain, she’d never seen before. 

He looked like he was ready to kill.


	43. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Faith deepen their bond to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit chapter...

When they got home, Bruce escorted Faith up to his room—ignoring her adamant assertions that she needed to call Buffy immediately.

“Gorgeous, it can wait until tomorrow. Daggett isn’t going anywhere, trust me. Besides, I would much prefer spending the rest of tonight buried between your thighs, if that’s alright with you.”

Faith cocked her head in amusement, her dark eyes glittering up at him—before she sauntered over and smoothed her hands up his chest, with a devilish smirk. 

“What did you have in mind, Krasivyy?”

“Well?” Bruce gently traced his finger under his Mother’s pearls, which had found their perfect home on his girlfriend’s neck and said simply, “I was hoping to make love to you with just these on.”

Faith actually blushed, which caused Bruce’s expression to morph from adoring to predatory instantly. 

“Is that a fantasy of yours?” Faith breathed out questioningly. 

“It wasn’t, until tonight.”

“Oh!” 

She bit her lip in surprise, her eyes fluttering shut as Bruce moved his fingers to under the neckline of her dress and teasingly caressed her nipples over the laced silk bra she was wearing. 

It never ceased to amaze her how much sensation she could feel from such a simple touch. But that was what Bruce did to her—his touch trailed wanton fire and electric heat along her skin—in the absolute best possible way. 

He leant down to bring his lips to hers, but Faith pulled back slightly—her expression soft but slightly hesitant causing Bruce to cup her face and ask, “What?”

She didn’t respond however, she just shook her head and disentangled herself from him...going over to the hidden room and placing her finger on the biosensor, as Bruce watched her curiously. She disappeared for a moment, before returning back with a couple items in her hands. 

Then she set them down on Bruce’s bed. 

He eyed them too, his eyebrow lifting questioningly—before he picked up the blindfold between his fingers and held in aloft. 

“What’s this for?”

“Well,” Faith cleared her throat nervously...her gaze fixated on the small scrap of cloth in her boyfriend’s hand, “I was thinking we could use those tonight, if you wanted to.”

Glancing down again, Bruce noted the handcuffs and nipple clamps and nodded. 

“Where would you like me, Domina?”

Faith shook her head, walking into Bruce’s embrace as she gently took the blindfold from him and set it down next to the other items. 

“No, Krasivyy...these _aren’t_ for you.”

Faith almost giggled at the adorably confused look on Bruce’s face, and then smiled softly when his expression cleared into surprised understanding. His bright hazel eyes locked onto hers, and she could see his throat bobbing with restrained emotion. 

“You want me to?”

She nodded. 

“Gorgeous, are you _sure_?”

Running her hand through Bruce’s dark locks, and watching his eyes close in pleasure at the simplest of touches, filled her heart to bursting. To see with such stark clarity how her touch and such a chaste one at that, affected Bruce—let her know that there was no one else on this planet, whom she could or would be willing to attempt this with. 

“I want to _try_ ,” She whispered out emotively, “And I want to try with you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to try with. I trust you and I love you. So yes, Krasivyy—I’m sure.”

Brice sighed, his gaze flickering to said items before they moved back to the face of the extraordinary woman standing in front of him. 

“How about we compromise?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” pulling her flush with him, he gently stroked Faith’s jaw and then her bottom lip with his right thumb, “If you would really be alright with me directing where this goes tonight, then I’d like to do it without these.” He waved his other hand at the items, and watched Faith’s brow furrow in confusion. 

“I don’t understand.”

Bruce’s smile was indulgent at first, before he kissed Faith’s lips tenderly, and then went to put the items back in their secret room. When he came back out, he tuxedo jacket and tie were gone and the top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone. He then went and stood back in front of his girlfriend and slowly removed her gown, and shoes...leaving her only in the scantily attired lingerie he’d purchased for her. 

Circling around Faith, his gaze roving over every sculpted inch of her body, Bruce hummed in satisfaction. 

“You are fucking _perfect_.” 

He growled deeply, and then scooped her up into his arms, chuckling at her surprised squeal—before laying her down reverently on his duvet—and propping himself up on his side so he could take in the image that would likely be seared into his memory until his dying day. 

Faith watched Bruce closely, as his hazel eyes darkened with desire for her. The fingers of his left hand traced a path from her hipbone, over her bellybutton and between the valley of her breasts before smoothing up her throat possessively. 

And she could instantly feel her body’s response—her panties dampening noticeably. 

Then Bruce’s nostrils flared and Faith was fairly certain, he could smell her arousal too. 

“Have you ever allowed a partner to watch you come undone by your own hand?” Bruce asked huskily, licking his lips for effect...and Faith just shook her head in the negative. 

That was far, far too intimate of a thing, and not something she’d ever thought about putting down as any kind of limit in their contract. 

“I want to see you.” Bruce admitted with a sly grin, his voice rumbling with need. “ _I want to watch.”_

“Oh...”

Deep brown eyes stared up into hazel, which were scope-locked on her. 

“Except, Gorgeous—you won’t get to come until I give you permission to. Do you have a safe word?”

Faith shook her head again, never considering the need for one. 

“Do you want to try?”

She nodded, biting her lip nervously. 

“I do.” 

She whispered, her breath catching slightly as Bruce swirled his left index finger around her right nipple with the faintest of touches. 

“Then pick a safe word.”

“Uhm...” Faith averted her gaze for a second before she responded with a slight smirk, “Stevedore.”

“Huh?”

Faith giggled. “Long story, but trust me, it works.”

Figuring he’d get the story at some point, all he could do was nod in agreement. 

Then, he slowly perused Faith’s body again, his lips quirking in something resembling amused chagrin. 

“What?” She murmured. 

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Regretting putting down photos as a hard limit, because fuck...it...all! I’m not sure if my memory will ever be able to do justice, with how utterly exquisite you look right now.”

“Bruce...”

“Shhh, Gorgeous...it’s okay. I’ll just have to settle for knowing that I’ll be the only man to ever see you like this.” His eyes lifted to her’s, and Faith could see the clear resolve on Bruce’s face.

“ _You’re mine.”_ He growled possessively. 

“And you’re mine.” She parlayed back, causing Bruce to grin wolfishly. 

“Happily.” He purred, before lifting himself up and staring down at her unabashedly. “Take them off.”

Faith swallowed hard and then popped open the front clasp on her strapless bra easily, pulling it to the sides and trying her best not to react to Bruce’s deep rumble, as her breasts became fully exposed—her nipples pebbling instantly. She then removed it completely and let it fall to the floor, before placing her hands on either side of her hips and slowly taking off her underwear.

Once they were removed too, she went to drop them in the same spot, but Bruce had other ideas. He held out his hand and demanded, “ _ **Give them to me.”**_

Bobbing her head slightly, she did as commanded. 

And then gasped as Bruce took her offering and held her drenched undergarment to his nose and inhaled. 

“Fuck, you smell like sin.” 

He murmured so lowly, that Faith’s belly contracted and her legs clenched together instinctively. Rubbing her legs together slightly, Faith watched Bruce’s eyes darken almost to brown as he hummed in pleasure at her scent. 

“Spread those legs, Gorgeous...”

If it was a surprise to her at how easily her body responded to Bruce’s commands, Faith wasn’t in a place where she could process the why, only that she wanted him to keep looking at her just like he was doing...

...like she was his _everything_...

“ _Show me._ ” 

He enunciated each word slowly, and forcefully—and Faith did just that—she spread her legs and tentatively ran her hands down to her core.

Bruce was watching every movement like a hawk. He could smell Faith’s arousal, both in the air and on her lingerie. It was a perfect blend of musky sweetness that was inherently... _her_. He could see that she was trying to move out of her comfort zone for him, and it made him love her all that much more. The second her fingers touched her pussy and those doe eyes fluttered, he was lost to the moment too...

...and he felt the last of his inhibitions fall away as he encouraged his Slayer forward...

“Did you know, Gorgeous? The first time I saw you, I wanted you even then. You walked out onto the street in front of your old apartment building, holding your motorcycle helmet underneath one arm, as you pulled your beautiful hair out from under your jacket and I was _enchanted_ in that moment...”

Bruce smirked slightly, as he watched Faith’s breath hitch—her thumb and index finger on her left hand holding herself open, while her index finger on her right hand dipped into her core—and spread her succulent wetness around her clit in small circles. 

“That’s it, keep going.” He murmured. “Tell me when you’re about to come.”

She nodded in understanding, so he kept talking...

“Then I saw you at Oswald’s, and I thought you were the fucking sexiest woman I’d ever seen that night. I watched you then, just as I’m watching you now—and all I could think about was what it would feel like to have you wrapped around me. Dancing only for me. Straddling me, wearing that sinful outfit as you sunk down on me. Fucking you so good, that you screamed my name where everyone could hear you...”

“ _Fuck_!” 

The word was barely audible, but Bruce heard it and he smiled wickedly. 

“I’ve never been a jealous man, Gorgeous—but that night...” he shook his head at the memory, and Faith’s whispered, “ _Tell_ _me_ ” had him chuckling darkly. “I think, that I just might’ve been capable of turning any man in that place to a bloody pulp, had they’d touched you how I’d wanted to that night.”

“Bruce...was that why you were...”

“Such an ass, later that same night?”

She nodded and he smirked. “What do you think? Tell me, Gorgeous? Who do you _belong_ to?”

“You.”

“That’s right. Who does your perfect body belong to?”

“You, Krasivyy.”

“Yes, and who does your singular mind belong to?”

“You.”

“That’s right. And your extraordinary heart? Who does that belong to?”

“ _Only you.”_

“ _Fuck yes!_ ” He hissed, moving over quickly so his body was now hovering over hers. He could see the pace of her fingers speeding up and right before she fell of the precipice, he growled out, “ _Stop_.”

Her desperate whine of his name was music to his ears. 

After making her count to twenty, he watched Faith as he commanded her to start her sweet torture all over again, even as he kept on talking to her...

“When you came to me that night at the garage, looking fierce and powerful? I knew I was in way over my head. You amazed me that night, Gorgeous. Your fearlessness and ability to fight so effortlessly was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. In that moment, I’d realized I’d found my equal.”

Her breath sped up along with her movements, and Bruce watched avidly, humming in appreciation at the glistening of Faith’s fingers swirling around her clit perfectly.

She was a _goddess_.

“When I went to your apartment, I knew then that I was desperate for you. _I needed to have you._ Every night when I’d close my eyes, all my thoughts were filled with you.”

“ _Bruce_...”

“I _know_ , Gorgeous. That first night fucking you rocked my world, and when I woke up the next morning? All I wanted was to see you, to touch you and taste you again. I was so irritated that you’d left me...but impressed that you were in control enough to do so.”

Faith whimpered, licking her dry lips as her eyes locked with Bruce’s again, and she could see the raw hunger there...

... _for her..._

“Then that night at the museum, when you’d walked in? I had never in my life to that moment, seen a sight as _gorgeous_ as you. But then you left me standing there all alone and I knew, at that exact moment as I watched you walk out with Daggett. I knew you were made for me, and I for you.”

“Bruce...”

“It’s true, Gorgeous. _I fell in love with you that night_. You completely blindsided me and tore through all my defenses, until there was nothing left but you. You’re all I see, you’re all I want.” He paused, his eyes shining bright as his voice dropped huskily, “ _You’re all I’ll ever need.”_

“ _Shit_!” 

She hissed out, her fingers moving now with more purpose, and Bruce grinned down at the decadent sounds of Faith’s wetness...as she pushed and pulled her fingers inside her dripping cunt.

“Give me your hand.” 

He bit out, and then smiled slyly when she whined again before doing as he’d commanded. Bruce took her right hand and brought her fingers up to his nose, inhaling deeply again, before popping them into his mouth and sucking hard. 

“You taste so good.” He mumbled between licks and nibbles, then settled her hand back down where he’d wanted it. “Make yourself come, Gorgeous. I want to hear my name fall from your lips as you do. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

It didn’t take long at all, perhaps a few minutes...before Faith detonated using nothing but her own fingers and his dirty words to get her off. Her back arched, her breasts thrusting out into the open air, her legs clamped around her hand—as his name fell from her sweet lips in perfect supplication. 

When she finally opened her eyes and stared up at him, Bruce could see the awe and wonder there and he leant down, sealing their souls together with a reverent kiss. He then stood up and divested himself of his clothes—his dick more than ready, before rolling Faith over onto her belly.

“Spread your legs, Gorgeous—and let me in.”

As soon as she’d done as asked, Bruce laid himself flush with her and pushed himself into nirvana. 

“Fuck, you feel so perfect.”

Her desperate moan made his dick twitch inside her—but Bruce didn’t want to rush this moment. He wanted to remember it always—savoring every moan, whine and plea that fell from Faith’s lips. 

He wanted the image, smell and taste of her to burn him alive and leave him forever changed. 

_So that’s what he did._

For the rest of the night and into the wee hours of the breaking dawn, Bruce Wayne made love to the woman he’d follow for the rest of his days and beyond. 

The woman he’d follow into the abyss and back—just for the right to call her, _his_. 

The woman who’d taken the broken man he’d been, and brought him back from the brink...

Who’d made him remember what it was to feel alive and whole again, in the ways only they’d be able to give each other. 

They weren’t perfect...

No, he and Faith were two deeply flawed people. Two people beaten down by the darkness of life, emerging from that nightmare a shadow of their former selves. Two broken halves of a singular whole that had managed to meld stronger together than separate. 

When he was joined like this with her, Bruce didn’t know where he ended and Faith began...

...and as their final cries of completion echoed into the room...Bruce knew that no matter what happened in the future, this, here—with Faith in his arms—was his home now. 

_It was where he belonged, and always would._

“I love you.” 

He whispered deeply into her ear, feeling their hearts beating in time as she cradled his head into her neck and kissed his temple lovingly. 

“I love you, too.”

Lifting his head, he stared down into endless pools of darkened chocolate and smiled. 

“Do you think it would be wrong of me to have you beg off calling Buffy until tomorrow?”

“Why?” Faith asked curiously. 

“Because I just want one more day alone with you before the inevitable chaos descends. Call me selfish.”

“It’s not.” Faith admitted seriously. “I feel exactly the same way.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, but I do need food.” Faith pleaded. “And some OJ? I’m parched and hungry and need to recharge my battery before I let you take advantage of me again.”

Bruce chuckled with a firm nod. “Then let’s take a shower, and head downstairs. I’m sure Alfred can cook up something in no time at all.”

“Cool!” 

She chirped, asking him to help her remove the pearls before dashing out of his bed and into the bathroom. Bruce smiled after her and then groaned when his phone rang. Scowling down at it, he sighed as he noted the caller. 

Glancing up at the bathroom doorway, he sat up and hit ‘ _send_ ’...connecting him...

“Wayne.”

“Mr. Wayne, sorry to bother you so early this morning.”

“No, it’s fine, Eric. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I tried to call Miss Lehane, but she wasn’t picking up. She received a phone call this morning that I felt the need to pass along.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Roger Wyndham-Pryce. This is the third time he’s called actually. Miss Lehane was to get back to me to let me know if she wanted to schedule a meeting with him for her Press Secretary position.”

“She did mention it.” Bruce admitted as he fidgeted with the strand of pearls. “I’ll give her the message, Eric. I’ll have her get back to you tomorrow. Please defer all PR issues until then. We’re not to be disturbed today.”

“Of course, Mr. Wayne. I do apologize...”

“It’s fine, Eric. Talk to you, tomorrow.”

Setting down his phone, along with the pearls—Bruce made his way into his ensuite where Faith was already in the shower. Moving into the private toilet, he quickly relieved himself before joining her back in the main part of the bathroom. 

“Hey.”

She handed him his toothbrush and he smirked, before brushing his teeth thoroughly. Once he was done, Faith gripped him and kissed him deeply, humming happily at the taste of mint on his tongue. 

“Hi.” She quipped, pulling back with a grin. “Who was on the phone?”

“Eric.”

“Ah, what did he want?”

“Nope...we’re not talking any shop, Slaying or other nonsense today, Gorgeous.”

“Fine!” 

She stuck out her tongue and Bruce nipped at her playfully, before grabbing his body wash and lathering himself up. As his hands moved down south, his hands were replaced by his girlfriend’s, as she gently stroked him from front to back...causing his chest to rumble deeply when she moved behind him. 

Then she started to pump his dick in earnest using her right hand. 

“I thought you were hungry?”

“I am,” she whispered naughtily into his shoulders before nipping on his skin forcefully, “I just can’t seem to keep my hands to myself this morning. Sue me.”

“I’m not complaining, Gorgeous.”

“No?” Cupping his balls with her left hand, Faith continued to stroke and caress him in the ways in which she’d learned he’d liked best. 

Plus, she loved his deep, throaty groans of pleasure. 

“Shall I let you come like this?” She purred.

“Please, Domina.”

“No, Krasivyy...I’m not your Domina right now...tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“Faith...”

“Yes?”

“I want to come in your mouth.”

“ _Good choice.”_

She hummed again, before taking the shower head, rinsing off Bruce’s body wash and then moving him over, so she could sit down on the shower bench facing him. 

The second Faith engulfed him in her perfect mouth, Bruce was lost. 

It didn’t take him long to come at all...

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” 

He moaned out the words, as he held the back Faith’s head and cupped her jaw with his thumbs, cradling her to him—watching with blown eyes as she swallowed him down completely. 

When she was done, she let him go with a soft pop and grinned up at him in triumph. 

Which caused him to chuckle at how adorable she was. 

“We really should get you something to eat, Gorgeous.”

“I suppose.” She huffed, standing up and reaching for her toothbrush again.

Bruce just shook his head as he stepped out of his shower, dried off and headed for his closet to get something to wear for the day. 

As he emerged, pulling a shirt over his head—Faith was standing there with a towel around her and the few items she’d left in her drawer that she kept in his apartment. 

“What are we going to do once the baby comes?” Bruce wondered aloud.

“What do you mean?”

“Well?” He sat down at the edge of his bed, watching Faith get ready. “Wayne Manor won’t be rebuilt for a while yet, probably after Damian is born?”

Faith scrunched her nose, as she pulled up her jeans and then grabbed her T-shirt.

“We’re not ready to live together yet, Bruce.”

Sighing softly, Bruce eyed Faith with a put upon expression—before she plopped down next to him and nudged his shoulder with hers. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Faith...we’re having a baby together.”

“True, but he won’t be born for many months yet. We love each other, right? I’m not going anywhere and neither are you, but that doesn’t mean we need to rush into cohabitating before we figure out how to do this relationship thing a bit better?”

“Did you live with your ex?”

“Robin?”

Bruce nodded. 

“Not exactly. I had my own space and he did too. We spent more time at his than at mine—at least the first year we were together. When I left to go to LA and came back a month later, something shifted between us. I think we both knew that it wasn’t going to work, and I probably should’ve ended it then.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know?” She admitted. “I can’t pinpoint one exact thing that led him to cheat—it just wasn’t...”

“Right?”

“Something like that. I think Robin wanted something more permanent and that just wasn’t me. He used to make passive aggressive comments about how I needed to be more open, more emotional...”

“Vulnerable?”

“That too.”

“Sounds like a real jerk.”

Faith hummed softly in agreement. “Robin held a lot of anger for years over his Mother’s death. He initially went after Spike, with Giles help...but Spike had his soul returned by that point, and Buffy tends to be a sucker for Vampires with their souls.”

“Ouch.”

“Maybe.” Faith snickered. “Robin...I don’t blame him for wanting more than I could give him. The truth was, I didn’t let him in. I didn’t trust him, and with good reason. I’m sure wherever he is, he’s happy.”

“Do you ever wish you could’ve made it work?”

“Gods, no!” Faith snorted in disgust. “The only thing I missed when we parted ways was having a sparring partner. He was capable, not great.”

“Oh?”

“You’re much better in all arenas, Krasivyy.”

“Good to know.”

Faith stood up and held out her hand, which Bruce took immediately. When they got downstairs, Alfred was waiting, as were Baba and Yaga. 

“Hey boys!” Faith cooed, as her dogs came rushing towards her, nubs wagging with excitement. “Do they need to go downstairs to do their business, Alfred?”

“I was just about to do that, Miss Faith.”

“That’s okay, I can take them.”

Faith grabbed their leashes, refuse bags and the key to the dog atrium. 

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

Bruce kissed her sweetly, watching as the elevator door closed, before turning his attention back to Alfred. 

Who was watching him with a pleased smile on his face. 

“What?”

His butler handed him that mornings paper, and then said, “I’m going to get breakfast ready, Master Wayne. Any requests?”

“No, Alfred. Right now I’d eat just about anything.”

Alfred didn’t comment, so Bruce went over to the couch and sat down—opening that mornings edition of the Gotham Times. 

And there on the front page, were several pictures of he and Faith, from outside the War Memorial Hall, and he couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful Faith looked on his arm. The headline of course, made him chuckle...

_**Royal Romanov Grand Duchess on the arm of Gotham’s Prince** _

At least they’d gotten Faith’s title correctly this time. 

Skimming the article, Bruce was surprised that that the accounting of their evening was fairly accurate. From the ovation at the end, to Faith spending time with each member of the ballet, and speaking with them in their native Russian tongue. It was a fluff piece, and there were of course, the cursory speculations on their relationship, how long they’d been seeing each other, and if they were already living together. 

They’d even managed to get a few quotes from notable socialites that had been at the performance. And of course, they’d commented on Faith’s gown...

...and her wearing what they’d speculated were his Mother’s pearls. 

Closing the newspaper, Bruce just sat back and stared out into the morning. It was already past nine, and for once in recent memory, he had no active plans to do anything this weekend but enjoy some time with his girlfriend and relax. 

It was about ten minutes later, Faith walked in with her dogs and the box for the pearls—letting them off their leashes before she came over and snuggled into his side. 

She set the box down and then she noticed the paper.

“Do I want to know?”

“It’s fine, Gorgeous. Just the usual speculations, although it was mostly accurate and complimentary.”

“Oh?” Faith grinned impishly. “Did they accuse you of being a gold digger again?”

“No.” He chuckled and shook his head. “But they did manage to get your formal title correct this time, so there is that.”

“Joy.”

“Come on, Alfred should have breakfast ready by now.”

“Good, cause I’m starving.”

“Nausea?”

“Not yet. Seems to hit me more in the late morning, or early afternoon. But that ginger tea that Alfred got for me, really seems to help.”

“It’s his own blend. Apparently he made if for my Mom, when she was pregnant with me.”

When they got into the kitchen, Alfred had pancakes ready with some fresh fruit and Orange Juice. He was frying up some bacon, when Faith’s nose scrunched up in protest. 

Then she turned green and bolted. 

“Shit.” Bruce scampered after her, finding her in the hallway bathroom, dry heaving into the toilet. “What is it?”

“ _No bacon!”_

She retched again, as Bruce held her hair back. When he glanced over his shoulder, he noticed Alfred standing there and nodding. 

“Alfred is getting rid of it.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, Gorgeous! Now we know. No bacon.”

Faith sat back on the floor and grabbed the cold washcloth that Bruce had dampened for her, wiping down her face. Bruce left for a moment and came back with her toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. 

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Let me go make sure the coast is clear, okay?”

“Fine.”

When Faith came out a few minutes later, breakfast—sans the bacon—was being set outside on the veranda. 

“This works.” She sighed, sitting down in the chair Bruce pulled out for her. “Sorry, Alfred.”

“Not to worry, Miss Faith. I will make it a point not to cook any meat from now on.”

“That might be for the best.”

Placing her napkin on her lap, she took the glass of OJ that Bruce had poured for her, and took a large gulp. 

“Better?” He smirked. 

“Much.” She then hummed happily, taking a bite of the fluffy pancakes with syrup poured all over it. “This is good.”

“Is that the first time smell has triggered you getting sick?”

“Mmhmm...”

Alfred came out again, with a small pot of ginger tea. He poured Faith a hot, steaming cup before heading back inside. Faith watched him go with a fond smile on her face. 

“He’s really a sweet man.”

“Alfred is the best.”

“He’s been your guardian since you were eight?”

“Yes.”

“He loves you like a son?”

Bruce nodded. “He’s never given up on me, even when I’ve given up on myself.”

“A rare find in this world.”

“Yes.” 

Faith finished her pancakes in record time, and was sipping on her tea when she decided to ask Bruce something that she had been curious about for a while. 

“Why didn’t you tell Rachel about your decision to become the Batman?”

Bruce whipped his head back stunned, at the out of left field question. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know? I had heard you both arguing that day, and of all the things she’d said—I think that one stayed with me the most.”

“ _Wow_...I, Huh?”

“Caught you off guard?”

“Yep.”

“Sorry?”

“No you’re not.” He winked, before his expression sobered. “But I’m not sure I have an answer to give you, Gorgeous—that makes sense. I think a part of me felt by not telling Rachel, I was somehow protecting her. I think another part of me knew instinctively that she wouldn’t approve, and might try and talk me out of my decision.”

“Do you think she’d have been successful?”

“No. I’m fairly certain if she’d tried, it wouldn’t have gone well at all.”

“Maybe ruining your friendship, or the hope of something more?”

“Both?”

“Fair enough.” Faith bowed her head, and gripped her napkin as she asked lowly, “If she had accepted your choice that day you’d spoken of...”

“The day after my ancestral home was burnt down?”

“Yeah...that...Do you think you two would’ve made it work?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“Yes. I was ready to be with her, and I was ready to finally open myself up to her.”

“And she shot you down.”

“She did.”

“How did it make you feel?”

Bruce went back to that day and thought about how he’d felt when Rachel had rejected him, and he shook his head at the truth. 

“I was upset, but I shook it off rather quickly. Compartmentalized my emotions, and moved on to the job I had to do.”

“As Batman?”

“Yes.” Bruce gave Faith a quizzical look, but her face was averted as she was biting her lip in contemplation. “What is it you’re thinking?”

Deep brown eyes turned to him, and Bruce could see a myriad of emotions there...but he didn’t get a chance to ponder it too much before Faith spoke. 

“That was the moment you made the choice to fully commit to Batman...you do realize that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Bruce...Rachel was giving you a choice, in a roundabout way. She didn’t come right out and tell you not to be Batman, but she wanted you to know that you couldn’t be both Batman and Bruce Wayne. Not if you wanted to be with her. She wanted you to choose her.”

Bruce blanched, as he replayed his entire conversation with Rachel from that fateful day, and realized belatedly that Faith was right...

Rachel had been giving him a choice, between his mask and the man he used to be. 

Between Batman and Bruce Wayne. 

“She told me that when Gotham no longer needed Batman, maybe she’d see me again.” Bruce admitted stiffly. 

“What I think she’d likely meant, was that when you no longer needed it. She was waiting for you to tell her that you needed her more than you needed to wear your mask, and you didn’t tell her she was wrong, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Bruce tilted his head back in wonder, “she eventually told me she was proud of me, and that my dad would be too.”

“Because she knew you’d made your final choice, and that choice wasn’t her. It wasn’t a future with her. Your Father would be so proud of what you’ve done Bruce, but not for how you’ve chosen to fight? But for why you choose to fight. To help those less powerful than yourself.”

Bruce’s hazel eyes settled back on deep brown, as he reached for Faith’s hand—which she gave without hesitation. 

“I wish I knew how you did that.” 

“It’s a gift that...”

“...most people don’t appreciate.” He finished for her.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Frankly, it blows me away.” 

“In a good way?”

“Always, Gorgeous. You amaze me with how much you see. I thought I was fairly observant, but you truly have a gift for seeing things so clearly. It’s refreshing. I’ve spent the past two years in denial about so much. Thinking that I could walk away from being Batman and go back to living a normal life, but I’ve never had normal. I’ve never been normal. I don’t think I’d know what to do with normal...”

“Me neither.” Faith admitted. “Normal is overrated. I prefer what we have.”

“Me too, Gorgeous.”


	44. Moves and Countermoves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce makes plans for the future.

For the rest of Sunday, Bruce and Faith enjoyed their bubble alone. They went down for a nap after breakfast, woke up in the early afternoon—made love and then took the dogs down to the atrium for an hour, while they just cuddled on the lounger watching them play. After dinner, they sparred a bit—but Bruce was careful not to press too hard, even though Faith seemed to enjoy pushing his resolve. 

They fell asleep around ten that evening and by six in the morning, Bruce was awake—refreshed and ready for the day. 

Faith fell back asleep, her cheeks still flushed from their early morning sex session. 

By eight am, Bruce was on his way into Wayne Enterprises to meet with Lucius, whom he’d tasked not too long ago, to dig up everything on John Daggett. He’d just not known how much he’d really need that information. 

“Mr. Wayne.” Lucius greeted from behind his desk, as Bruce sauntered in. 

“Mr. Fox. How is it you’re always here before me?”

“Just lucky, Sir.”

“Huh.” Bruce sat down on Lucius couch and crossed his legs, relaxing back into a more comfortable position. “Did you finish that background I asked you to look into?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” 

Lucius stood up, waved him to follow, and pressed the biosensor to the elevator behind his bookshelf—which led to the underground Applied Sciences area. 

Once they were down to the sub basement, Lucius keyed in a few things into the computer and then pulled out a folder for his employer. 

“When you texted me the other night to concentrate my research on Daggett’s previous relationships, there were three of note. The first was when he was back at Harvard. He dated a member of the Waldorf family.”

“Clarissa?”

“Yes.”

“And how long were they involved?”

“Daggett’s final year. The next relationship was several years later. A physician by the name of Phoebe McKenzie. Cardiovascular Surgeon, now practicing at Cedars Sinai.”

“And the final woman?”

“Miranda Tate.”

Bruce’s eyes widened at the name and then narrowed in suspicion. “Head of Tate Conglomerate?”

“The very one. She currently lives in Paris, France. Involved in several charitable organizations, mostly to do with environmental causes. They met at a conference two years ago, and were involved for about a year, before the relationship ended.”

“Did you do an investigative check on Miss Tate?”

“Nothing beyond the cursory. She went to University at Oxford, graduating with a degree in Environmental Science and Technology. She then got her MBA at Leeds.”

“Where was she born?”

“I wasn’t able to verify a birth certificate, Mr. Wayne. Although based on my cursory investigation, I do believe she might’ve lived in the Middle East at some point. Her personal Bio on her company’s website, noted that she speaks six languages. French, Italian, Portuguese, Mandarin, Nepalese and Farsi.”

“Impressive.” Bruce hummed as he glanced through some of the data Lucius had collected. “We interrogated Crane as you know and I have reason to believe that Miranda Tate may actually be Ra’s daughter, Talia al Ghul. Crane indicated she’d been the one calling the shots. She was the one who had him kidnap Violet and drug her. Faith and myself, have come to suspect, it was with the express purpose to brainwash and create an army of Slayers.”

“Surely not!” Lucius hissed, sitting down stunned. 

“That was my original reaction, too. But unfortunately, it makes sense.”

“Have you talked to Mr. Giles?”

“Buffy and Willow are handling that. Although, we haven’t shared with Buffy about Daggett’s connection to Talia al Ghul. If she is Miranda Tate, that would explain how she has the resources to have a small army at her disposal.”

“And who shared that information with you?”

“Vladim.”

“The Premier of Russia?”

“Yes. Faith called him late Saturday our time, and he told her that he knew who Talia was, and where she was.”

“Which was?”

“He’d mentioned Paris.”

Lucius nodded in understanding. “So that would highly suggest that Miss Tate is the woman in question.”

“I think it’s a safe assumption.”

“I will do a more comprehensive check.”

“Thank you, Lucius. Also, Crane mentioned another name. Bane.”

“Unusual.”

“I thought so too. But Buffy did mention that when she was in college, the Government had a secret underground military initiative that was tasked to experiment on supernatural beings. Crane mentioned that Bane wasn’t all human. That he was part machine and part...other...”

“I could check with a few discreet CIA sources I have? They might know more?”

“Good idea.” Bruce nodded, as he took the folder and moved back towards the elevator, with Lucius at his heels. 

“I’ll be in my office this morning if you need me. Oh, and if you could? In your spare time, could you get me a file on a one, Roger Wyndham-Pryce.”

“And he is?”

“Apparently he was a former Watcher for the IWC, and worked for the British Royal Family. Eric has been in contact with the man for a possible Press Secretary position for Faith, but something feels _off_.”

“Why do I feel there is more to this?”

“Because there usually is?”

Lucius lifted an amused eyebrow, but didn’t reply as they emerged from his bookshelf and into his office. Bruce left and headed for his office, ignoring the pointed stares from the executives and board members meandering around the hallway. 

He really couldn’t be bothered catering to people’s incessant penchant for gossip. 

“Good morning, Kathy.”

“Good morning, Mr. Wayne.” His Secretary smiled. “There’s some correspondence on your desk that needs your immediate attention, and Mr. Franklin from Gotham Security and Trust called this morning first thing.”

“Thank you, Kathy.”

Bruce moved into his office and sat down behind his desk, perusing through his mail first. There were some internal business issues from one of his new division heads, a prospectus from Lucius for a new defense contract and several invitations for charity events that he’d sponsored in the past. 

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number to his banker. 

“Mr. Wayne.”

“Hello, Edgar. I got your message this morning.”

“I’d hoped you might. I received a call from Karl Stroessner last Friday.”

“Yes, we spoke not too long ago. Did the account get set up alright.”

“It’s done. I have the documents for Miss Lehane here. I would be happy to drop them by in person today.”

“That would be great, Edgar. I’ll be at the office until two.”

“Very good.”

Bruce paused and then said slowly, “I will need you to set up a trust account for me, Edgar.”

“Oh? Might I enquire as to the why?”

Bruce chuckled at the clearly interested tone in Edgar’s voice. 

“Faith and I are expecting.”

There was a heartbeat of silence and then the man laughed out happily. 

“That’s wonderful news, Bruce! I’m sure you both must be thrilled!”

“We are.” Bruce grimaced, as he thought about how not thrilled he’d been, when Faith had first told him. “Karl is setting up a trust on Faith’s end and I would like to either add to that, or set up one concurrently.”

“It might be better for tax purposes to set it up offshore. I’m assuming that Miss Lehane will continue to work solely with Bank Suisse for the foreseeable future?”

“That’s her plan, yes. I will also need a complete rundown of my financials as soon as you can get them together.”

“Anything in particular I might need to look for?”

Bless Edgar, he was always good with subtext. 

“I’m looking to move some allocations by the end of the year. Seems the market is showing signs of another recession and I’d like to be prepared.”

“I’ve been watching some of the financial indexes too.” Edgar admitted. “Any thoughts on how widespread it might be?”

“It’s looking like it’s going to be across the board...all sectors. I need to make sure my company remains as unaffected as possible. I don’t want to lay off any of my employees and I’d rather not be put into a financial decision to have to do that, if we can avoid it.”

“Very good, Bruce. I will get you that information by the end of the week. Now, how much are you thinking of putting into the trust?”

“How much is my total net worth?”

Bruce could hear Edgar using his computer and after a few moments he came back on the line.

“Net worth in Wayne Stock is sitting at around six billion dollars. Your total net worth is probably closer to eleven billion with other investments, properties and so forth. The company’s net worth is closer to twenty billion. You’ve allocated 200 million for the rebuild of Wayne Manor...but that is a conservative estimate. It’s going to end up being closer to 400 million, once completed. How much did Miss Lehane set up in the trust with Karl?”

“Twenty billion.”

There was a dead, heavy silence on the other end of the line for at least a minute, before Edgar spoke up again—his voice now a bit shaky. 

“I’m _sorry_ , Bruce? I think you must’ve cut out there for a moment.”

“I didn’t, Edgar.”

“Shit.”

“That was my initial reaction too, when we were given the final financials from Karl.”

“I’m going to take it that he recommended the standard ten-percent?”

“He did.”

“ _My God!”_ The banker hissed. “It’s far more than anyone even thought it’d be.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Edgar cleared his throat a few times, causing Bruce to smirk to himself. “I would recommend putting a billion worth of stock in a trust. You would retain the voting rights, but once your child reaches eighteen he or she, would have access to those stocks. You can stipulate they not be sold, but the interest from the stocks could be placed into an account that could be accessed. At the going rate and accounting for trends in the market...the interest would be somewhere around the two hundred million dollar range, by the age of eighteen.”

“That sounds doable.” Bruce hummed in agreement. 

“Do you have any idea on whether you’ll be having a boy or a girl?”

“A boy.”

“Congratulations, Bruce. Have you and Miss Lehane decided on a name?”

“Damian Nicholas Thomas Wayne.”

Another moment of silence pervaded and when Edgar spoke up again, his voice was a bit on the emotional side. 

“Your Father would’ve been proud, Bruce—as would I imagine, Miss Lehane’s Great-Great Grandfather.”

“It seemed right.”

“I will get the paperwork done for you by the end of the week. Will you be announcing the pregnancy soon?”

“No, not for a while yet—so, of course...”

“Say no more, Bruce. I’ll handle this myself.”

“I’d appreciate that, Edgar.”

They said their goodbyes and when Bruce signed off, he tilted his head back in thought. 

How had he ever thought he wouldn’t want his own child when the time came? How had he been so _thoughtless_ , to leave Faith floundering while he got his shit on straight? 

And why did it take him almost losing them both, for him to figure out that he was _nothing_ without either one of them. 

He hadn’t even heard his son’s heartbeat yet...but he loved him already, and couldn’t wait to meet him. 

Couldn’t wait to see Faith holding Damian in her arms...

...their son...with thick dark hair and eyes just like his beautiful mother. 

_Gods, he was such a jerk!_

Clearing his throat a few times, Bruce stood up and made his way towards his window, which looked out over all of Gotham and settled his forehead on the cool glass, his hands bracing him on either side. So lost in his thoughts as he was, he didn’t immediately hear Lucius walking in. 

“Mr. Wayne?”

Standing up fully and turning around, Bruce noted the worried expression on his CEO’s face. 

“Sorry, Mr. Fox. Just lost in my own thoughts.”

“Everything alright?”

Bruce waved Lucius over to his couch and they both sat down.

“Faith’s pregnant.”

“Congratulations, Sir.”

“Thanks, Lucius.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, Mr. Wayne? You seem rather down.”

“I didn’t handle it well when Faith initially told me. Seems that Jack Napier...the Joker...they were at the orphanage together. He assaulted her and she was the one who gave him his scars. He’d been stalking her for years, and somehow managed to find a way to tamper with her birth control...which led to her getting pregnant.”

“And you feel guilty for how poorly you behaved?”

“Got it in one.” Bruce sat back with a scowl. “She almost died...”

“Mr. Wayne?” Lucius interrupted, “I can’t imagine what horrors Miss Lehane has had to deal with in her life. You both have suffered tremendous loss and I can’t imagine either one of you had planned this. But just because you didn’t react in a positive manner when she first told you, doesn’t mean you’ll love your child any less.”

“I didn’t even realize, Lucius—how much I’d wanted the Wayne name to live on, until she’d told me that we were having a boy.”

“How far along is she?”

“Five weeks.” Bruce smirked at Lucius questioning look. “Slayers have Prophetic dreams.”

“Oh!” Lucius nodded, stunned. “Have you chosen a name?”

“Faith, when she shared her dream with me told me what our son’s name would be. Damian.”

“A fine name.”

“I thought so too. Damian Nicholas Thomas Wayne.”

Lucius nodded, and swallowed heavily thinking how much in this moment—he desperately wished Thomas Wayne was here to witness this. 

“Your Father would’ve been over the moon.”

“I know.” Bruce chuckled. “My Mom would’ve been beside herself, too. Planning, shopping, helping with everything. They would’ve been the _best_ grandparents.”

“I agree.”

Hazel eyes lifted to him, and Lucius could see real fear there. In all the time he’d known and worked for Bruce Wayne...he’d never seen fear. 

“I just want to be as good of a Father to my son, as mine was for me.”

“You will be, Mr. Wayne. Being a parent, well...there’s no manual. You’ll just have to try and do your level best. You and Miss Faith will have each other for support. This child will be formidable, for no other reason than both of his parents will make sure of it.”

“Faith will train him to be a warrior, like her. I have no doubt about that.”

Lucius chuckled and nodded. “I don’t doubt that either.” 

Bruce sighed and then cocked his head. “Did you stop by for a particular reason?”

“Actually, yes. I just got off the phone with my contact within the CIA. It would seem that they are familiar with Bane.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. From what my contact said, Bane is a mercenary who leads a small militia force of radical zealots for hire. He’s been a key player in the destabilization of several regimes in Africa and well as Libya and Yemen.”

“To what end?”

“Unknown. My contact believes that Bane has been recruiting from these countries. But they can’t seem to verify anything, as those they’ve sent in undercover—haven’t returned alive.”

“So they have someone on the inside?”

“Most likely.”

“Vladim told Faith that as far as he knew, Talia’s force was not as prolific as Ra’s was. Ra’s had a force of several hundred that I knew of. But I have to wonder when Ra’s died, if Talia swooped in and took over what was left of his soldiers.”

“I checked into Miss Tate’s whereabouts. She is currently in Paris, but is scheduled to appear at a climate change summit in New York in three weeks. She’s their keynote speaker.”

“How _philanthropic_ , of her.” Bruce sneered. “And Bane? Any word on where he is currently?”

“My CIA contact is looking into it. They think he might be in Uzbekistan.”

“Why?”

“No one knows for sure, but the speculation is he’s recruiting,” Lucius replied, “although I might imagine that if Vladim had a clue, he would’ve said something?”

“Unless he didn’t.”

Bruce went to his desk and got his cell phone, dialing Faith’s number. He smiled softly when she picked up on the second ring. 

“Hello, Krasivyy.”

“Hey, Gorgeous. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Horrible.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. 

“Did Alfred make you some tea?”

“He’s here right now, hovering.”

Bruce chuckled. “Well, tell him ‘ _thank you’_ for me.”

“Sure. Is everything okay? You sound tense.”

“I’m fine. I’m here with Lucius. He passes along his congratulations.”

“Tell him thanks, and I’ll give him a billion if he can whip up something to make my morning sickness go away. This royally _sucks_.”

Bruce’s face registered surprise and then he threw back his head and laughed out loud, earning a startled look from Lucius and causing Kathy to poke her head into her boss’s office, with an expression of utter disbelief on her face. 

“I’ll let him know.” Bruce snickered, before he sobered up and said, “Lucius talked to one of his contacts and found out that Bane might be in Uzbekistan.”

“Isn’t that a former Soviet country?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Bruce could hear Faith shuffling around and then she said, “You want to do the honors, or should I?”

“He might be more inclined to talk to you.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather not owe him too many favors. He’s a snake in the grass.”

Bruce snorted out another laugh, which had Lucius shaking his head in bafflement. 

“Send me his contact info and I’ll give him a call.”

“Okay. I was totally serious about what I said before.”

“I’ll tell Lucius.”

“Whatever. Play nice and I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Sure.”

When Bruce hung up, he had a playful smirk on his face, which seemed to amuse Lucius even more. 

“She’s good for you.” Lucius said sincerely, and Bruce nodded. 

“ _She really is.”_ Bruce heard his phone ding, and nodded to himself as he saved the number to his contacts. “Faith asked me to pass along a message.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. She told me to tell you, if you can find a cure for morning sickness? She’ll give you a billion.”

Lucius blanched, his eyes going wide before he chortled in mirth, and then they both were laughing together. 

“Was she serious?”

“I really think she was.”

“Interesting, but I’m not sure even I’m that good.” Lucius quipped, before standing up and patting his employer on the shoulder. “Let me know if you find anything out.”

“I will. Thank you, Lucius.”

“Of course, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce watched the door close, before he dialed the number...not surprised when the man himself picked up the phone. 

“Mr. Wayne.”

“Premier, why am I not surprised you recognized my number?”

“A man in my position needs to be able to _know_ things.”

“Ah, well I suppose that is helpful.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Wayne? I’m sure this isn’t a social call?”

“Not exactly. I spoke with Faith after your talk the other night. I was hoping you and I might be able to come to some sort of mutually beneficial understanding?”

“Oh? In what way?”

“Wayne Enterprises is always looking for expansion into new global markets. I understand your new Minister of the Interior attended school here in the States?”

“Oksana did. She rather enjoyed her time abroad.”

“I’m sure she came back home with a mountain of new ideas?”

“Quite. Some of my old guard have been resistant to her enthusiasms.”

“Change can be difficult.”

“It can. But I’m sure you know this better than most, Mr. Wayne.”

“Has she had much success luring capital investors to Moscow?”

“Some, but it’s a slow work in progress.”

“Perhaps I might be willing to help with that. I have several contacts within the business sector, and perhaps this upcoming visit to Russia in November might pave the way for new international relations opportunities? If nothing else, the publicity engendered alone would gain substantial favorable political capital.”

“Perhaps,” Vladim replied blithely, “however, you want something in return for this largesse, I’m assuming?”

“Perhaps.” Bruce parlayed. “Tell me, how’s relations with Kasikov these days?”

Vladim scoffed. “He’s a self-important _stooge_.”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “And if I were to tell you that he may be in _league_ with a certain individual’s organization?”

There was dead silence of the phone, but when Vladim did finally speak...his voice was cold and forbidding. 

“How do you _know_ this?”

“I _found_ her. I know _who_ she is and I know her associate is likely in Kasikov’s country. He’s recruiting, according to my sources. He may even be working with the government there. But if not, he’s after something.”

“Leonid Pavel.”

“I know that name.”

“I had a feeling you might. Scientist, former member of the Moscow Academy of Sciences.”

“Former?”

“His ideas were rather radical for some. He disappeared about a year ago, although there have been rumors Kasikov has given him refuge.”

“Why? What’s he working on?”

“Nuclear Fusion.”

“Is that even possible?”

“No, but Leonid was rather insistent it was. We funded his research for ten years, with no results.”

“If our mutual friend is where he’s reported being? I have to wonder how long he might be staying there?”

“Perhaps you might give me a few days to gather what information I can. The woman in question will be heading for the States soon?”

“Yes. Three weeks, in New York.”

“From what intelligence I’ve gathered, where she goes—he goes. She’s rather well guarded in Paris by all accounts. When she travels, it’s with a small entourage of their best trained soldiers. The creature, is her protector.”

“He was part of the same organization?”

“Yes. But he was excommunicated by the man himself. A few years before you made the man’s formal acquaintance, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce smirked, not at all surprised that Vlad had discovered that connection. 

“You seem to be well informed, Sir.”

“Oh, it’s my job to be. You’ve been busy since your return from your sabbatical, Mr. Wayne. I do believe you’ve utilized your training well.”

“I’ve done what I can.”

“Nonsense, you’ve done what no one else could. It’s to be _commended_.”

“I suppose the correct response to that is to say...thank you?”

“If you feel you must.” Vladim quipped, “I will have a diplomatic pouch sent to you in a few days. It will be hand delivered by a trusted messenger. I suggest you utilize the information within and remove the threat permanently. She will not stop, and if past precedent is anything to judge by? She will seek out revenge for what happened to her Father. Likely when you least expect it. You have a duty and responsibility now, to _protect_ Nickolayevna and her child. As capable as she is, there will come a time soon when she will be compromised by her condition.”

“Faith would disagree with you.”

“I know she would. It doesn’t change the facts, however. She is the last of the Romanov and is now carrying an heir. I don’t need to tell you what the fallout would be if she were to be harmed.”

Bruce shook his head. “You’ve grown fond of her.”

“She is a remarkable young woman, who’s been through her fair share of heartache and hurt.”

“How?”

“I’m not sure I understand the question.”

Bruce chuckled and said simply, “How in the _world_ did you get Roger Wyndham-Pryce on side? I had suspected that our lady friend was behind his sudden interest in Faith’s PR position, but a man who has worked for the IWC would never willingly align himself with an evil force, no matter the provocation.”

Valdim clapped in appreciation. “Very good, Mr. Wayne! You would be correct in that Mr. Pryce has inquired after the position at my behest.”

“And how do I know he can be trusted?”

“It’s in his best interests to do so.”

“I see, and how can I trust you?”

“You _can’t_.” Vladim chuckled. “I am a politician, Mr. Wayne. Which means I serve my agenda first and foremost. Nickolayevna is Russian, therefore she is my responsibility now, too. Whatever my motivations, she is worth more political capital to me alive, and happy. If you trust nothing, trust in that.”

“Spoken like a true politician.”

Vlad chuckled again, but didn’t deny the dig. 

“We will talk again soon, Mr. Wayne.”

“Of course, Premier. Thank you for taking the time and speaking with me today.”

“Of course.”

And the phone connection was severed. 

Bruce sat back deep in thought. He’d gotten some answers, which was good but he was also left with more questions, which was frustrating. 

Somehow, he needed to figure out how to take both Bane and Talia out without the kind of collateral damage the League was known for.

That, and keep Faith and their child safe...

Glancing down at his cell phone screen, Bruce scrolled back to Faith’s name and dialed. 

She picked up right away.

“Hey, how was your convo with Vladim?”

“Somewhat informative.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and I did find out once piece of news that may or may not set your mind at ease.”

“Which is?”

“Roger Wyndham-Pryce inquired about the position as your PR secretary at Vlad’s insistence.”

There was several heartbeats of silence, and Bruce wasn’t sure what reaction he was going to get but when Faith spoke up, her voice was even. 

“Got to give the guys props, he’s more of a snake than I gave him credit for.”

“He seems to genuinely care about what happens to you, Gorgeous.”

“ _Sure_.”

Bruce could hear the loaded cynicism in that single word, and decided to table that particular mine field for now. 

“I have some work to finish up here, but I should be back home by three at the latest.”

“B called—she and Daggett are coming over later.”

“ _Joy_.”

“Do we confront him?”

“I’m not sure we can trust the guy, Faith.”

“I get it, but he may know something about his former lover that could be useful?”

Bruce sighed, and considered that caveat before he shook his head. 

“How about we table this until I get home. What time are they coming over?”

“After dinner.”

“Fine, get some rest and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Whatever. Go forth and make billions, Wayne.”

Bruce hummed in amusement. “Lucius told me to tell you, even he’s not sure he’s that good.”

“Which means he’s going to at least try.” Faith bantered back.

“Probably.”

“Well, after everything that man has done for you, Bruce—a billion is chump change as a reward for services rendered. Besides, I’m sure you pay him well?”

“I do.”

“Huh? What is the going rate for a vigilante’s CEO’s these days?”

Bruce snorted, but replied succinctly, “Forty million, plus stock.”

“Seriously?”

“He’s very well compensated.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Krasivyy—since I haven’t done my research on it.”

“Actually, Gorgeous—that was the figure he gave me when I asked him to take over.”

“Oh? So if he’d wanted more?”

“I would’ve given it to him, no questions asked.”

“Fair enough.” Faith replied happily. “I’m going to go take the dogs down to the atrium for a while, and let them get out some steam.”

“Sounds good....oh? My banker will be by later this morning with your new account information. The money’s been transferred and you’re good to go.”

“That’s helpful, I guess.”

“Faith...”

“Nope, I’m fine—just feeling a bit pent up. I haven’t gone out and Slayed for a while, and it gets me a little squirrelly when I can’t release my energy...”

“Would more sex help?”

Bruce smirked at Faith’s husky laughter, as it floated down the line...

“Are you _offering_ your more than stellar services, Krasivyy?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

“Hmmm, that does sound _promising_. Maybe I’ll go relieve some of the tension now, while I’m thinking about it.”

Bruce growled over the phone, nostrils flaring in want as his dick started to twitch in earnest, at the images flashing before his mind’s eye. 

“ _Vixen_. Now I’m going to be distracted all morning picturing you doing just that.”

“Aww, poor baby. Are you hard yet?”

“Getting there.”

“I think I’d like to try sixty-nine when you get home. We haven’t done that yet. _Why_ haven’t we done that yet?”

“ _Shit_!” 

He leaned his head back on his seat and groaned out in frustration, his member almost fully aroused. 

“How’s the hard on, now?”

“I’m so going to fuck you into my mattress when I get home.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Oh, it’s most definitely a promise, Gorgeous. I need to get back to work before...”

“You come in your boxers?”

“ _Faith_...”

“Fine, Wayne—I’m bouncing. Have a great day!” 

She chirped almost too cheerfully, and then the phone disconnected—leaving Bruce shaking his head indulgently are how fucking adorable she was. 

It was about three hours later, and Edgar had just left—when Violet and Rona showed up in his office with a wrapped package in their hands. Both girls had matching shit-eating grins plastered on their faces, and Rona even winked at him before they left his office. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Bruce took the gift and went into his private bathroom, sitting down on the small bench before opening said package. 

What was inside had him smacking his head back against the hard wall behind him, as a pair of tiny silk panties came into view. He lifted them up and brought them to his nose and inhaled...

_Fuck! Faith’s scent was all over these..._

And they smelled so _good_...

Eyes rolling back in his head, he just sat there completely floored and totally hard. 

Without thinking, he unzipped his slacks...pulled down his boxers and fucking came like a hurricane right there in his private bathroom, holding Faith’s luscious scent to his nose as images from their previous weekend of sex replayed on an endless loop within his very vivid imagination. 

Once spent and cleaned up, Bruce put the gift back into the box and went back out into his office—also grabbing his car keys, cell phone, Faith’s paperwork and suit jacket—before nodding to Kathy on his way out. 

So much for getting any more work done today. He had much better things that needed to get done.

_Namely his girlfriend..._


	45. Why Do We Fall?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Faith try to come terms with their pasts as they talk about their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit scenes...all characters portrayed are fictionalized, even if the names are based in realty...

If there was a land speed record in a Lamborghini, Bruce was fairly certain he was about to set it, as he zoomed through traffic on his way home—all the while Faith’s gift was mocking him from the passenger seat of his car. 

His lips quirked up slightly, at how devious and _sexy_ she was. She has managed to get him so distracted, that he’d abandoned his work...which was something he’d _never_ done before. 

Pulling into the garage at Gotham Towers, he texted her. 

_What are you doing?_

It was a few seconds before he got an answer...

**I’m in my apartment...**

_Oh?_

**Yep**

_Are you feeling alright?_

**Five by five**

_Good_

Another short pause and then she wrote back...

**How’d you like your gift?**

Bruce grinned as he pushed the button to the 23rd floor, and made it there in about a minute as his phone beeped again...

**Hello? Did you even get it?**

He unlocked her door and strode inside, setting his keys and her paperwork on the table as his gaze noted that Faith wasn’t in her living room. He moved towards her bedroom, and stopped dead in his tracks...

“You _did!”_

She grinned widely in triumph, as Bruce just stood there and gaped like a fucking addled schoolboy. 

_Holy shit!_

She was laying down on her stomach...on her bed with her legs swaying behind her in the air...

“What are you _wearing_?”

“What? This old thing?” 

She purred throatily, sinuously moving back onto her haunches—her breasts nearly spilling from their confines...because the corset she was wearing...

...was completely sheer, except for the herringbone framework...

The silk stockings were contoured to her upper thighs, and held in place with thin garters attached to the corset. Four inch platform stilettos, and no fucking underwear...

“Did you bring me back my panties?”

Bruce pulled them from his slacks pocket and dangled them from his left index finger in challenge. 

“I take it these go with that little get up you’re wearing?”

“Maybe?”

“Come _here_.” He demanded deeply. 

His eyes never moved from the vision in front of him, as she sinuously moved off the bed and walked right in front of him. 

Plus his dick was already hard and aching by this point. 

Reaching out, he pulled Faith into him and kissed her viciously, cupping her bare backside like a vice. 

Her throaty moan had him responding in kind. 

Lifting her up, Bruce moved back over towards her bed and set her down—before stepping back—taking off his shirt, tie, shoes, sock and slacks. His silk boxers were the last to go, and as they dropped on the floor—Faith smirked and opened her legs in front of him...giving him a perfect view of her glistening cunt. 

He _pounced_...

Bruce gripped onto Faith’s thighs, pulled her to the edge of the bed and latched his mouth onto the scent that had been driving him crazy for the last hour. 

Her surprised shriek and then lusty moan caused him to hum into her scented flesh, right before he pushed his tongue up into her...

“Oh my _God_!” Her head collapsed onto the mattress behind her, even has her hands gripped into his hair.

Her strangled plea, didn’t deter him...if anything, it only served to _spur him on._

Removing his tongue, he replaced it with two fingers—thrusting up inside Faith’s hot channel and finding that perfect spot...

...and _rubbed_...

“Bruce...”

“Hmmm?” 

He murmured deeply, his tongue now licking onto her clit, as his hazel eyes caught and held deep brown ones that were openly staring at him with need. 

“Let me taste you, too.”

“Fuck..”

His own strangled sound had Faith smirking down at him, but he didn’t waste any time capitulating to the request. He moved onto the bed and resettled Faith, so she was now astride his face, her upper body facing way from him in a cowgirl position...

...then she lowered herself onto his face as she did the same to him, and took his dick into her talented mouth...

And then it was a race to see who could make whom...come first...

A fleeting thought entered Bruce’s mind that while he’d indulged in oral sex with previous partners, he’d never relished in it. He wasn’t an inconsiderate lover by any means, but there was something about being smothered in Faith’s pussy that made him feel both inherently possessive and prideful at the same time. 

It was like he instinctively knew, that of all the things they had done with and to each other...this here was the most intimate. It was the most visceral way he could show Faith his utter devotion to putting her pleasure first...

...that she would always be more important to him than anyone or anything else in his life...

Having her moaning around his dick as he spread her ass cheeks and laved her obscenely didn’t hurt either. 

_Gods...he could die a happy man right here..._

Pushing both thumbs into her quivering core, he could feel her legs shaking on either side of his head—a sure tell-tale sign that she was about to come. 

When Bruce felt her swallow him down whole, he clamped his mouth down on her clit and sucked...flicking the tip of his tongue rapidly around the swollen bud until he felt her scream reverberate around his dick and he lost it too...

Once spent, Bruce rolled Faith to her side, and then sighed in satisfaction as she moved alongside him and cuddled into his side—her head nestled into the crook of his neck. 

She fit against him _perfectly_ , like an interlocking puzzle piece that was always supposed to be there.

“Hey.” She whispered, and he hummed in reply, nestling her even more firmly against him. “Do you have to go back to work?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Bruce kissed the crown of Faith’s head, and hummed again in agreement. 

“What am I going to _do_ with you?” His voice was filled with amused exasperation. 

“I thought you’d got a good handle on that just now.” 

Faith lifted up her head and set her chin on his chest, her deep brown eyes glittering with mischief.

“I can’t believe you had Violet and Rona deliver me your underwear. Did they know what was in that package?”

Her sensual grin had Bruce’s eyes narrowing, then he snorted.

“ _Okay?_ I’m fairly certain I’m never going to be able to look those two young women in the eye again.”

Faith snickered, before leaning up and placing a lingering kiss on his lips. Bruce thrummed at the mixture of both their essences in the kiss. 

He deepened it instantly. 

Then rolled Faith under him, resettling himself between her thighs...his erection springing back to life. 

When he pushed himself into his girlfriend’s welcoming heat, Bruce broke the kiss and started to pump his hips in earnest. 

“Your refractory time is just the _best_...” Faith purred, lifting her hips up to meet Bruce’s thrusts. 

“Glad you approve, Gorgeous.”

“I most definitely approve...just go _harder_...”

“As you wish.”

Talking turned into stunted moans and groans for the next twenty minutes, until Bruce slammed to the hilt one final time, at the same instant Faith’s pussy clamped down on him...

“ ** _Shit!”_** Faith cried, while Bruce grunted out in pained pleasure...then collapsed into his girlfriend’s waiting arms. 

“Fuck, you’re **amazing**.” He whispered between sharp intakes of breath, and felt Faith’s responding murmur of pleasure and reciprocation. 

They stayed like that for a bit, entwined with each other—neither in a rush to break free from their mutually blissed out state. 

“My OB in Cleveland called me this morning to check on me.” Faith said softly, after a bit.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She wanted to know if I wanted to have my medical records transferred to an OB here in Gotham.”

Bruce instantly rolled himself off Faith, and sat them both up so they could have this conversation properly. 

“What do you want to do?”

Faith shrugged as she bit her lip and averted her gaze. When she didn’t reply immediately, Bruce cupped her face, turning her back to face him. 

“What is it?”

“I really like her. It took me years to warm up to her. She’s pretty cool, not judgey and doesn’t freak out when she sees bruises on me from Slaying.”

“Does she know?”

Faith shrugged again. “She asked me once when Robin and I were dating, if I felt safe at home. I laughed and told her that if any man ever raised a hand to me, I’d put him into the emergency room.. She’d laughed at that.”

“What’s her name?”

“Dr. Alice Brooks.” Faith replied. “She’s at the Cleveland Clinic.”

“That’s a world class research facility.”

“Yeah.”

“Would you feel more comfortable if she were overseeing your pregnancy?”

Faith sighed, but then nodded reluctantly. Bruce stood up immediately, and went and got his phone. 

“What are you doing?”

“Gorgeous, if this is what’s going to make this easier for you, then you can’t expect me not to do everything within my power to make this happen, right?”

“Bruce!” Faith admonished half-heartedly. “What are you going to do? Bribe her way here?”

He just winked and then dialed a number. The caller picked up on the first ring. 

“Mr. Wayne.”

“Hello, Emmett.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Are you familiar with a Dr. Alice Brooks at the Cleveland Clinic?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, Faith and I are expecting, and Dr. Brooks was her OB of record when she lived there. Faith would feel more comfortable having someone she knows overseeing her pregnancy, and due to recent events...I would prefer it as well.”

“Congratulations, Bruce. Yes, I can understand why you both might feel that way. Would Dr. Brooks be amenable to relocating here in Gotham?”

“Perhaps if she were approached with a competitive offer? I understand the Hospital is looking into putting a state of the art Neonatal Intensive Care Unit on board. I would be happy to personally donate to that cause.”

Emmett chuckled deeply. “I’ll see what I can do, Bruce. When is Miss Lehane’s next visit?”

“Dr. Fielding mentioned by eight weeks. So a couple weeks from now.”

“Give me a week, Bruce.”

“Thanks, Emmett. I’ll owe you one.”

“If you’re truly serious about funding the NICU, Bruce...we can definitely call it even.”

“Of course.”

The phone call ended with Faith shaking her head at her boyfriend, but deep down she was really touched by his high-handed chivalry. 

“Must be nice, to be rich.” She quipped sarcastically, causing Bruce to chuckle at her. 

“Pot.”

“Kettle.”

“Love you.”

“I love you too, Krasivyy.” She kissed him softly before asking. “Who exactly is Emmett?”

“Doctor Emmett Winston, Chief Administrator of Gotham General.”

Faith glanced down at Bruce’s phone with a smirk. “Do you have the phone number of the President of the United States in there too?”

Bruce’s expression morphed into a sly grin, causing Faith to snort out in disgust. 

“Who else?” She growled, as she swiped his phone to her so quickly, Bruce gaped at her in shock. 

“Are you really going to go through my contacts?”

“Why not?” She bit back. “Don’t I have a right to know who you’re going to blackmail, buy off or negotiate with, at the drop of a hat?”

Bruce snorted but didn’t even attempt to reach for his phone back, and he watched on with utter amusement as Faith scrolled through his contact list. 

“ _What the fuck_!?” She growled out after a few moments, her brown eyes blistering as she pointed down at the screen. “How many Victoria Secret models do you have listed in this fucking phone, Wayne?”

“Faith...”

“Let’s see? Adriana, Giselle, Alexandra, Miranda? Have you slept with them all, too?”

“Of course not!”

“Oh my fucking God!” She shrieked! “Angelina fucking Jolie!”

Bruce’s blush instantly outed him, and Faith’s eyes widened before she threw his phone back at him in disgust—storming into her bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. 

“Faith!”

“Get the _fuck_ out of my apartment!” She cried out in anger. “I can’t believe you fucked, Angelina Jolie!”

“It was one night!” He stormed over and banged on the door. “ _One!”_

“Yeah? And how many times did you fuck her in that one night?! Was she any good?”

He should’ve expected those questions, and pausing to formulate an acceptable response was obviously the wrong thing to do. 

When he heard something crash against the door, Bruce winced and shook his head.

“Gorgeous, open this damn door right now!”

“ _Piss off!”_

“Faith!”

Then he heard the shower going and Bruce leant against the door, his forehead on the smooth glass panel as he pleaded,

“Faith? Come on, Gorgeous? _Please_ open the door.”

“No!”

“Damn it, Faith! Come on! It was over two years ago! I had just gotten back from my sabbatical and I met her at a charity event. She was filming some movie here in Gotham and we had a few drinks...one thing led to another...”

His confession was met with dead silence.

Sighing, he decided it would probably be best to nip this shit in the bud right now, else he find himself unexpectedly on the other side of his girlfriend’s ire yet again. 

“It was one night. Three times. I’m not going to lie and tell you I didn’t enjoy it, but back then? I didn’t as a rule—engage in anything more than glorified one-offs. It was far easier that way. I like sex, sue me. But with you? Gorgeous, making love to you is beyond just having meaningless sex to scratch an itch. Yes, I’ve been with a few famous women, whom I had nothing more in common with other than a fleeting sexual attraction. Do you want to know the truth?”

There was several heartbeats of silence before Faith sniffled out, “What?”

Bruce put both his hands against the door and replied emotively, “The truth is that I simply _can’t get enough of you._ I crave you in ways that I didn’t know I was capable of. I love you, Gorgeous! You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Please open the door and let this go? It’s in the past. You’re my future. You and our son.”

Bruce stood there for another couple minutes before the door finally unlocked. Sighing in relief, he opened it only to find his girlfriend on the other side, tears leaking down her cheeks. 

“Shit.” 

He moved over into the shower and took Faith into his arms, holding her reassuringly. 

“Fucking hormones!” She blathered out on a choked sob. 

“Faith...”

“ _Don’t_ , okay?” She shook her head into his chest, refusing to make eye contact. “I know I’m not being rationale right now, but how am I supposed to feel finding out you have phone numbers of women like that in your phone? Am I supposed to be okay with it?” She then gazed up at him defiantly, her eyes glistening with even more unshed tears. “You gave me shit for John Daggett, and I never even fucked the guy!”

Bruce grimaced in shame. 

“Noted. Would it make you feel better if I deleted their numbers?”

“Did you give all those chicks your number, too?”

“Honestly, I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember whether you gave Angelina Jolie your digits? Come on, Wayne?”

“Fine. Yes, I might’ve given her my cell phone number. From what I understand, she’s recently begun dating one of her costars on a movie she just filmed.”

Faith gave him an incredulous look. “You _read_ the tabloids?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Now her expression was inscrutable. 

“So, when’s the last time you actually had a little tête-à-tête with the woman?”

Bruce scrunched his face up in sudden clarity at what he’d implied, and then queried softly, “Do I really have to answer that?”

“ _Hell_ yes, you do!”

“Fine, but just understand that she called me, not the other way around.”

“Wayne...”

“Faith...”

“ _Spit...It...Out.”_

Bruce wasn’t going to lie to Faith, but he knew the minute the truth came out? 

She was going to lose her shit. 

“The night before Harvey’s fundraiser.”

“What did you _just_ say?”

Faith’s voice was barely audible, but Bruce could see the rage building behind those darkened brown eyes. 

“You heard me.”

“ _Get out!”_

“Faith...”

“ _ **Get the fuck out, now!!!!”**_ She screeched at him, her fists clenched in fury. “Go! Before I do something we’re both going to regret!”

Bruce wanted to defend himself, but he really didn’t have a pot to piss in at the moment. Shaking his head ruefully, he walked out of the shower, but before he made his way out of Faith’s bathroom, he said softly, “I’m _sorry_. If I could go back and change those two days, you have to know I would. I love you and _only_ you—Gorgeous.”

He went to close bathroom door, and the second it clicked shut...

Faith screamed, and then he heard the sound of tile smashing...

Turning back around, Bruce crashed opened the door and saw Faith on the floor of the shower, sobbing uncontrollably...and there, where he’d been standing...

...was a fist-sized hole, right through the three-inch Italian marbled tile. 

“ **Damn it!”** He growled desperately, moving back into the shower and falling to the floor—gathering Faith into his arms against her broken protests. 

“I’m sorry...I’m so, _so sorry.”_

He whispered into her hair, cradling her into his body as he rocked her gently. Reaching for her right hand, Bruce was somewhat surprised that the fist that had smashed through the shower wall like it was nothing, looked relatively unscathed. 

_Slayer powers..._

**Fuck**...

Bruce didn’t know how long he’d held Faith there on the shower floor but after a while, her sobs abated to the occasional hiccough, so he grabbed her body wash, shampoo and conditioner—and took his time cleaning her tenderly. Faith didn’t speak to him, nor give any outward sign in reaction to his ministrations, but thankfully she did allow the concessions.

Once cleaned up, Bruce turned off the water, and lifted Faith into his arms, walking out of the shower, settling her down on the bench and drying her off. 

She just continued to stare at him unseeingly. 

He scooped her up again and took her into her bedroom, before placing her down gingerly on the edge of her bed. He then knelt down in front of her and took both of her hands in his—rubbing them soothingly. 

“Talk to me, _please?”_ He cajoled pleadingly. 

“What would you like me to say to you?”

“Whatever you feel.”

“Do you want to know how I feel, really?”

“Yes.” 

“I feel betrayed and hurt and angry. That day you left me after I told you I was pregnant? I cried myself to sleep. I hadn’t felt that low since...”

Faith shook her head in distaste.

“Since when?”

Faith shook her head again and went to try and move away, but Bruce gripped her hands tightly and begged, “Since _when_ , Faith?”

“Since the night I begged Angel to kill me, okay? Does that make you _happy_ , Wayne!?”

“ _Fuck_!” Bruce swallowed heavily, as tears sprung to his own eyes. “No, that **doesn’t** make me happy. How could you even think that?”

“I don’t know?” Faith hissed out with venom. “At least with Rachel? I knew beforehand that I was just some quasi-fucked up fill in. Would you have ever told me, had this not happened tonight?”

“I don’t know, but before you assume the worst of me? It’s not because there was anything to hide...it’s because it didn’t register with me as anything important enough to bring it up. She called me, for a UN mission she is taking part in and was looking for some help. But honestly? She was more intrigued with my relationship with you.”

“Why?”

“You know why. I received several phone calls after we’d returned from Switzerland. I never mentioned it at the time, because it all seemed trite and unimportant compared to everything else we were dealing with. Faith, while I’ve enjoyed a level of fame due to being Bruce Wayne—living in the spotlight was a means to an end. If people saw me as the empty-headed playboy billionaire? They wouldn’t seek to equate me with my masked vigilante persona. The two personalities, aren’t compatible with most people, and I’ve gladly perpetuated that persona when it’s suited me to do so.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Bruce.”

“I know it doesn’t.” Bruce admitted with a resigned sigh. “Those two days I disappeared, I spent a good majority of them wandering around Wayne Manor...checking in on the construction and thinking about my own childhood with my parents. Trying to picture what our life might look like with a child, running around my ancestral home with the two of us chasing after he or she...”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm,” he shrugged, “but after spending hours obsessing over every reason why I didn’t deserve to be a Father, or why I wouldn’t be a good one? I remembered something my Dad told me when I was young.”

“And what was that?”

“He used to say—Bruce? Why do we fall?” 

Faith smiled softly as she asked tentatively, “And what did he answer?”

“So we can pick ourselves back up again.” Bruce felt his own reluctant tears escape down his cheeks and was heartened when Faith carefully wiped them away. “And I knew that it didn’t matter if I was scared, or thought I wouldn’t be good enough. Because I _knew_ that you wouldn’t let me fall or fail, and even if I did...you’d be there to pick me up and pick up the slack, just like I’d be there for you. I’d called you that Saturday morning, but when it went straight to voice mail, and your box was full? I’d figured you didn’t want to talk to me just yet. I didn’t press the issue with the fundraiser either, because I didn’t want you to feel obligated to attend, if you were still pissed at me.”

“I don’t know what to do with this,” Faith admitted emotively, “with these feelings? I’ve spent all my time from before I’d returned to Sunnydale to fight the First, until I fell in love with you—shutting down my emotions. Trying not to go back to the Faith who’d reacted poorly...”

“You have the right to how you feel, Gorgeous. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.”

“Even when I fuck it up?”

“You didn’t, _I did._ I shouldn’t have assumed that just because something is meaningless to me? Doesn’t mean that you will perceive it in the same way.” He went over and grabbed his phone and opened his contact list up, then deleted one number after another until he got to the final one. He glanced up at Faith and said simply, “There is no one more important to me than you. _No one!”_

“Bruce...”

“Yes or no.”

Faith glanced down at the name on the screen and sighed. 

“I do trust you.”

“I know.”

“But I can’t place my trust in someone I don’t know.”

“Fair enough.”

“Tell me true, what vibe did you get from her when she called? Was it more straight up curiosity, or something else?”

“I don’t know her well enough, but if I had to make an educated guess? I’d say it was the former.”

Faith glanced down at the phone again and sighed. 

“Do you think she’ll call you again?”

“Maybe.”

“Really?”

“I never got back to her about the help she’d asked for, so there is a chance.”

“I see.”

“Faith...”

“Don’t placate me, Wayne. It pisses me off, and yeah! I’m fucking jealous. I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Exactly how I felt, when I found out John bought you that dress, or when he gave you that rose the night of the fundraiser?”

“Whatever. Again, I _never_ fucked the man, so it doesn’t count.”

“So we’re keeping score now?”

“You wouldn’t come out looking too good if we were.”

“Ouch.”

“Too fucking bad.”

Bruce waved the phone in front of him mockingly, silently asking what she wanted him to do. Faith narrowed her eyes and then grabbed the phone, and hit send. 

“Faith? What are you doing...”

“Hello, Bruce.” 

Faith hit the speaker button and said out clearly, “I’m sorry, but this _isn’t_ Bruce.”

There was a brief pause on the other end as Bruce gazed up warily at his girlfriend, who was staring back at him in challenge. 

“Who is this?”

“This is Faith Lehane, Miss Jolie. I’m sure I don’t need to formally introduce myself, yes?”

Another silent pause and then the voice spoke up and said evenly, “No, I do believe I’m familiar with who you are, Your Grace.”

“Excellent.” Faith purred, simultaneously giving Bruce the stink eye. “Bruce was kind enough to share with me that you are in need of some aid? How can we help?”

There was another weighted pause on the phone, before the woman spoke up again. 

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, Your Grace? But I am a Goodwill Ambassador for the United Nations and was just appointed to their Foreign Relations Committee.”

“I might’ve heard that mentioned.”

“I was in Chad earlier this year visiting Darfur refugees, and am planning on returning. There are medicines and other supplies I am trying to procure before I leave at the end of next month. Bruce mentioned to me some time ago that Wayne Enterprises had developed a clean water initiative, and I was hoping to see if he might be interested in offering some assistance with that.”

“I see.” Faith hummed, cocking an eyebrow at Bruce, who nodded at the truth of the statement, as he continued to watch her closely. “Is this something that would require funding only? Or is it something that would require a more _personal_ touch?”

Again, there was a measure of silence before Angelina responded with, “Any assistance would be greatly appreciated. I already have commitments from several philanthropic foundations.”

“Such as?”

“The Johnson Foundation out of New Jersey, the Weston Foundation in London and the Tate Foundation in Paris.”

Faith’s eyes widened (as did Bruce’s) as she responded evenly, “Oh? I’m afraid, I’m not familiar with the Tate Foundation?”

“It’s run by Miranda Tate. She is the Head of Tate Conglomerate. I will be meeting with her at the UN in a few weeks for the climate conference, right before I head back to Africa. She has expressed an interest in possibly attending the refugee camps with me.”

“How lovely.” Faith replied with faux sincerity. “As it just so happens? I have been looking for a worthy cause to support. When Bruce told me about your recent conversation, I felt I just needed to introduce myself.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Bruce shook his head, his hazel eyes now gleaming with amusement. 

“Do you have a prospectus? Something Bruce and myself can look over?” 

“I do.”

“Excellent! If you wouldn’t mind, please send it our way. Perhaps if we are able? We could meet in New York as well, to discuss this further?”

“That would be wonderful, Your Grace.”

“Well, I won’t take up any more of your time today. Once we have the information, I’ll make sure to keep in touch.”

“Of course.” 

“Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Miss Jolie.”

“You as well, Your Grace.”

Faith hit the ‘ _end_ ’ button as she glared at her boyfriend, who was smirking up at her with intent. 

“Do you feel _better?”_

“Sure. You’re just lucky that she might prove useful. I’d like to think that it’s only a strange coincidence that you were contacted along with Miranda Tate, but I sincerely doubt that a woman who runs the League would bother with a Hollywood type beyond the obvious.”

“Which is?”

“A distraction.” Faith replied caustically. “Go in country where things are shit, to a veritable recruiting hotbed. Let the famous actress distract the press with her pretty face and her charitable schtick, while you’re doing the slight of hand over there. Not exactly original, but I’m sure it gets the job done.”

Bruce chuckled, impressed. 

“I can see how that might work.”

“Please,” Faith snarked, “you’re just surprised because you didn’t figure it out yourself.”

“Perhaps.”

Faith rolled her eyes and went to stand up, but Bruce lifted her into his embrace and pulled her naked body flush with his, while cupping her cheek into his hand. He caressed the swollen area around her right eye, his gaze pensive. 

“You know that I love you, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you know how hard it was for me to admit it, right? Not because you’re not easy to love, but because I’ve spent so many years denying my own feelings?”

“I get it.”

“I know you do.” Bruce sighed. “Would it make this easier if you had a list?”

“What? Of all the women you’ve fucked??” Faith snorted out incredulously. “How long of a list are we talking about?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“Rachel was the only real relationship I’ve ever had, before you. In college I dated, but I was judicious with whom I had sex with. I had a friends with benefits thing with a classmate throughout my sophomore and junior years. She came from a wealthy west coast family in San Francisco, and she wasn’t looking for anything permanent, and neither was I.”

“Oh?”

“No. She also had a similar deal with her roommate.”

“Male or female.”

“Female.”

“So did you ever?”

He nodded. “Yes, a few times.”

“I thought you were a monogamist.”

“I am, but I liked to watch.”

“Ah, so you didn’t fuck the friend.”

“No.” Bruce sighed again and then shrugged helplessly. “When I was with the League, there was no one.”

“But you were gone for seven years!”

“I had other priorities, Gorgeous—and when you train with the League? Your entire commitment is to that cause. No distractions.”

“Got it.”

“When I got home...for the first few months, I was a bit of a shut in. Making plans with Alfred to become the Batman, and sniffing around Lucius in the Applied Sciences area for tech, which he was only too happy to provide me with. It wasn’t until I made the decision to out my return to the public, that my playboy persona was born. Angelina was the first woman I’d been with in a while. Perhaps the idea intrigued me, but it was more about scratching that itch. After that, there have been a sum total of seven other women in the past two and a half years. All one-offs.”

“Models?”

“Five of them, yes.”

“Who?”

Bruce listed their names and Faith rolled her eyes in disgust. 

“And the others?”

“One was a woman I met in London at a function a year ago. She was the daughter of a member of the House of Lords. The other and the most recent, was a gallery owner in Soho.”

Faith nodded, and then Bruce asked quietly, “I know about Robin Wood, but who else have you been with?”

“The truth?”

Bruce nodded in return. “Always, you know that.”

“I lost my virginity to a neighbor in Boston, right after I was called as a Slayer at sixteen. Part of me was curious, and another part of me just wanted to get it over with. I had sex with Xander Harris when I first got to Sunnydale. He is Buffy’s best friend. I don’t know if Riley counts, since I was technically in Buffy’s body when it happened. When I went to Los Angeles, I hooked up with a guy I met at a bar. He was into cheerleading outfits and bull whips, and it was then that I realized a few things about myself. Then, there was Robin. That lasted for two years. After we split up, that was the last time I’d had penetrative sex, but...there was a club in Cleveland called the Simitar, which is a Dungeon for professional Dom’s and Sub’s. I would go there, dressed in my pink wig and my mask...”

“As a paid Dominatrix?”

“Yes. I did a variety of role play with the men or women who came to me. I was rather popular, but I rarely saw the same person twice. There was one guy, who offered me a lot of money to be at his beck and call and he was persistent and the only person I ever saw more than once, but that wasn’t my gig. The club was exclusive, and every person had to have weekly testing done to remain a member.”

“If it was so exclusive? How were you able to initially afford that?”

“I saved the owner’s life from a vampire attack. In return for that kindness, she offered me an outlet for my pent up energy.”

“And her name?”

“Felicity Brooks.”

Bruce’s eyes widened in sudden comprehension. 

“Your OB’s sister?”

“Yeah.”

Bruce sat down and nodded slowly. “That’s also why you suspected Dr. Brooks never asked about all of your bruises, and also why you had to see her so often?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll admit, I had wondered how you knew about contracts and what an NDA was.”

“Now you know.”

“Is that where you got your tattoo?”

Glancing down at her right forearm, Faith shook her head in the negative.

“I got this in Boston, when I was fifteen.”

“What does it represent?”

“It doesn’t, I just liked the look of it.”

“Well, it’s very you.” Bruce hummed, and then placed his lips chastely upon Faith’s, measuring her response as he kissed her tenderly. When he pulled back slightly, he whispered out, “Are we good?”

Faith glanced over her shoulder towards the bathroom and grimaced. 

“How upset are you that I...”

“Shush...” he pleaded, “if anything, I’m just glad you didn’t take out your anger on me.”

“I could punish you?”

“You could.”

Faith stared up into Bruce’s hazel eyes, which were filled with sorrow. 

“I didn’t think so.” She said at last. 

“Really? Why?”

“Because, oddly enough...I don’t like hurting you for the sake of just hurting you. It’s one thing to watch you get off on what we do, but that’s mutual and I love having you give that part of yourself over to me. It lets me know you trust me to take care of your needs first.”

“I _do_.”

“But I’m not a sadist, Kravissy. I get enough of that quirk when I Slay, and as much as there’s a part of me that gets aroused by fighting, I do know how to separate the two now. When I was younger... _well_...”

“Ah, I think I understand.”

“You do? Because it took me years to figure that part out of myself.” Faith admitted, pulling Bruce with her so they could lay back down on her bed. Once settled, she spoke up again. “I had wondered before I went to jail, if I was too badly damaged by my rage and anger. If there was a part of me that actually got off on hurting people. It wasn’t until years later, that I’d figured out the truth.”

“Which was?”

“It was about the power.” Bruce looked down at Faith, but her gaze was averted towards the window. She was staring out into the daylight, but he was fairly certain her mind was fixated on the past. “For so much of my life, I felt _powerless_. Powerless to stop my Dad from killing my Mom, powerless in the orphanage to protect myself from the other kids, powerless that I couldn’t save my Watcher—but the hardest truth was? I was powerless against a force that chose me for a calling I wasn’t prepared for, and powerless to refuse.”

Bruce pondered that harsh truth as he pulled Faith closer into his side and remained quiet, knowing that whatever this was—needed to be shared...

“When I got to Sunnydale the first time and found out there was another Slayer? I’d felt like a part of me had been cheated. She had a family, Watcher, friends...and I’d had everything in my life ripped away from me. I felt powerless and impotent, so I channeled that rage and anger into Slaying. It was the one thing I could control. I could learn to fight better, harder, fiercer but no matter how hard I’d trained and tried—there was always Buffy to remind me that I just wasn’t quite good enough. After Gwendolyn died, and I spun out? I spent months trying to find that control. But I went about it in the worst way. I was broken and couldn’t see beyond by own damage—and by that point my attitude was pretty much ‘ _fuck it’_ —if I’d died, who would miss me? Mourn for me? Or would they be relieved I was gone? By the time I made the decision to die, I was _so_ done. It was almost a relief.”

“Do you think Angel ever considered otherwise?”

“Nope, he saw something in me worth saving. Hell if I know why or how—but after Sunnydale and going to Cleveland, I’d decided I needed to figure out how to channel my baser instincts. A Slayer as you know, lives in the darkness. It’s easy to get swallowed there when you don’t have something else to balance it. That’s where the control came back into play. It was like a fucked up form of therapy. Robin couldn’t deal...at least not long term. When I found Simitar, it was like a light switch went on and it just clicked, you know? Sex, control, trust—they’re all intertwined. Sex is easy, control even easier—trust? Not so much.”

“And what about submission?”

“I _hate_ that word.”

Bruce chuckled in understanding. “Is it because of its connotation? Or because you don’t think you’ll ever be able to fully trust in someone to let go?”

Faith scrunched up her face as she considered what Bruce was asking. Her issues with trust ran deep. Her issues of self-worth even deeper. But it was her issues with safety, that ran the deepest. 

“Do you remember what you told me before? About how I made you feel safe to explore both sides of your duality without judgement?”

“Yes.”

“I think you hit the nail on the head.”

“You’ve never felt safe?”

“Not since before my Mom was killed. Just because I have this power, doesn’t mean I’ve felt safe. Yeah, I can protect myself physically—but more times than not, it isn’t enough. If you let people in, they disappoint you. Let you down. _Betray_ you.”

“Faith...”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” She sat up and stared at him with a cold expression on her face. “You say you love me, now? But what happens later when I do something you don’t like, or I embarrass you because I don’t handle something in the right way?”

Bruce sat up too, and took Faith’s hand in his—kissing it in reassurance. 

“I’m not perfect, Gorgeous. Far from it. But there are two truths I do know about myself, would you like to hear them?”

Faith bit her lip and nodded warily at the stern expression on Bruce’s face. 

“The first is, I _never_ say anything I don’t mean. I won’t ever offer you empty platitudes, nor try and spare your feelings. If I think you’re in the wrong, I’ll tell you but by that same token if I screw up, I’ll take responsibility, no questions asked. I’ll always listen and won’t judge, because I would hope you’d extend the same courtesy to me.”

“And the second?”

“That when I commit to something, I don’t do it halfway. It’s why I’ve never done so before now.”

“But you might not have made that choice, had I not gotten pregnant?”

“No, that’s not true, Faith.”

“How can you say that?” She gritted out in denial. 

“Because either you trust in me or you don’t. Either you _believe_ in me, or you don’t. I trust you and I believe in you. I believe in who we can be together, and I want this—regardless of our son. He’s a bonus I didn’t know I’d ever want, but I’m so grateful to have with you. We are going to have obstacles, but somehow? You’re going to have to either decide to take a leap of faith with me or not.”

“Nice pun.”

“It wasn’t meant as one, Gorgeous.” Bruce smirked. “But the sentiment is still a valid one.” He then cupped her face in his hands and said succinctly, “Do you love me?”

“You know I do.”

“Do you want a future with me?”

“Of course I do, Krasivyy.”

“Then why can’t you understand and listen to me when I tell you that’s all I want too? I love you, and I want to be with you. Nothing, and no one is ever going to change that. I don’t expect you to change for me, and I don’t expect you to be something you’re not. I just hope you will try for me, as I will for you. Can you do that?”

“I really want to.”

“Then that’s all that matters here. Would you feel better if I asked you to marry me?”

Faith gaped at him in horror. 

“What the fuck, Wayne?! Are you _fucking kidding me right now?”_

“Nope. What’s the matter, Gorgeous? You don’t want to marry me, someday?”

Faith shook her head before she smacked his chest in irritation. 

“You know? I may not have any real expertise in the whole relationship department, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how you propose to someone, you _fucker_!”

Bruce snickered out an amused cough, his eyes alight with merriment. 

“Just checking.”

“Oh my God! You’re such a _jerk!”_

“Your jerk, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“That’s because there’s no way on God’s green earth, I’d ever take that question seriously right now!”

“And why not?”

“Don’t fuck with me!”

“I’m not, Gorgeous. I seriously want to know your feelings on marriage.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Really?”

“Really, and it’s not likely to change anytime soon. We aren’t even living together! Don’t you think that’s a...oh, I don’t know? A natural step to take _before_ you tie the knot?”

“Fair point.” Bruce leant forward almost menacingly. “So, here’s what I want. Are you ready to hear it?”

“Go ahead and Jedi mind trick me, you _shit_.”

Bruce grinned then stated in a completely uncompromising tone, “Wayne Manor will be rebuilt by next summer. I fully intend to move back home, and I will want both you and Damian to move home with me. You’ll have exactly until then to get on board with cohabitating. If you decide before then that you’re ready, we can figure something out together. As for marriage, unless you’re vehemently against the institution itself, understand one very important reality—that at some point down the road? I _will_ be getting down on one knee, and proposing. Perhaps not tomorrow or next week, _but it will happen._ How’s that for knowing what I want and how I feel about you?”

“I really hate you right now.” Faith whispered out emotively, tears creeping reluctantly at the corners of her eyes. “You can’t just throw that shit at me!”

“ _Too fucking bad_.” Bruce bit out. “I love you. I’m _always_ going to love you. I want a _future_ with you. That means everything that goes along with that. I’m a traditionalist at heart. Sue me. You’re _never_ getting rid of me.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you!” She shrieked out on a cry. 

Bruce lifted a triumphant eyebrow as his grin widened in victory. 

“Tell me again?” He demanded.

“I don’t want to get rid of you!” Faith wailed. “I don’t want to lose you. Don’t you _understand!?”_

“Understand what, Gorgeous?”

“I won’t survive it if you leave me, and I hate myself for being so weak.” 

She gasped out the last part on a broken sob, and Bruce gripped her to him and kissed her without reserve. 

They both clung to each other desperately, and when the kiss broke away on a mutual need for air, Bruce rolled himself on top of his Slayer and held her fast. 

“Don’t you know, that I feel _exactly_ the same way? But you’re not weak, Faith. Love doesn’t make you weak. It gives you strength.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

“Yes I do, and it’s because of you.” He clarified. “There was a time in my life, I thought exactly the same thing. That if I gave my heart away? That weakness could be used against me.”

“And you don’t feel that way, anymore?”

“No, and it’s because I know that you’re strong enough to brave the darkness with me, Gorgeous. We are stronger together, than separate. You know it too, deep down.”

“I do.” Faith admitted lowly. 

“Is that why, when Buffy mentioned that night after we got back from Zurich, about having empathic capabilities, you rushed out of the room?”

“Yes. I knew the moment I opened that part of myself up...”

“I get it.” Bruce interrupted, noticing Faith’s discomfort. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.”

Bruce glanced over at the time and sighed in resignation.

“We should probably get you both fed. Buffy and Daggett will be here in an hour.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I suggest we play it by ear. Maybe share about your little phone call today? Gauge John’s reaction?”

“That sounds like a plan.” Faith sighed before she nudged her chin in the direction of her bathroom. “What am I going to do about that?”

“I’ll call the building contractor when we get upstairs and have him come and fix it tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Faith replied, moving into her closet to grab a change of clothes. “I just hope for Buffy’s sake that John isn’t a creep. I’d hate to have to pummel him.”

Bruce smirked, but didn’t say anything. Secretly, he would almost relish in that idea, but like Faith, he didn’t want to see Buffy get hurt either.


	46. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and Faith finally deal with their contentious past.

Buffy had spent the better part of the last two days in John Daggett’s bedroom in his Penthouse. He’d tried to take her out on the town, but unlike Faith—who’s new heritage had outed her to the entirety of the world—Buffy was still very much working from the shadows and happy to remain there. 

_Mostly_...

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go out on a nice, quiet, romantic date with John...

...she _did_...

But she knew the minute they went public, her entire life would change in that instant. 

And anonymity would no longer be an option. 

So for now, she was happy to stay in John’s apartment, taking advantage of his more than stellar bedroom skills and impressive refractory time to enjoy the ride. 

Which she was happily doing at this exact moment, as she bounced up and down on his dick in earnest. 

“That’s it, Sweetness..” he growled deeply, his blue eyes flashing with lust, “Ride me _hard_.”

So that’s what Buffy did...

...she rode him until her entire body seized up, her orgasm crashing down—the cry from her mouth sounding deeper and more desperate than anything she could ever remember making. 

Then John flipped her over, pulled her legs up to his shoulders and pounded into her mercilessly...

Which caused another orgasm to rip through her in the space of less than five minutes...

...followed simultaneously by a high-pitched scream from her and a shout of release from John. 

“Fucking _hell_!” He groaned out in awe, his body shaking on top of hers. 

“That about sums it up.” Buffy hummed out in satisfaction.

John lifted up his head and quirked a smug as fuck, grin. 

“You do realize we’re supposed to be at Wayne’s Penthouse within the hour?”

“Don’t remind me.”

Rolling off her, John sat up and pulled Buffy with him—leading them both into his ensuite. 

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Because, the last time Faith and I spoke with Bruce there, he essentially took me to task for being an unforgiving bitch.”

“Oh?” John smirked, turning on the water and setting it to the temperature she liked. “Was he right?”

“Maybe.”

“Huh?” He shook his head indulgently. “Maybe you need to give yourself permission to let the past go, Sweetness. Shit happens to all of us, and some of us are just better equipped to deal with the fallout when it happens, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Look, I don’t claim to know much about your and Faith’s past, nor why it happened but what I do know is that a person doesn’t act out without reason. Did you ever think that maybe the problem with you and Faith, was that you both had unrealistic expectations of each other?”

Buffy gazed up at him with an inscrutable look on her pretty face. 

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“No? You guys were teenagers, so you can’t expect to make sound judgments at that age most of the time. She’s older than you, not by much—but enough that she probably looked up to you at some point. Maybe even tried to impress you?”

“Maybe.”

“I think that you’re so used to being the one in charge, making the hard calls and dealing with the fallout that when Faith showed up on the scene, you didn’t know how to deal with someone who had just as much of a strong personality as you did. That’s not a chastisement, Sweetness—it’s just a fact.” He reassured, as he could see Buffy becoming a bit standoffish with her body language. “You both can’t change the past, but you can move past it if you choose to. Do you want to hold onto that shit forever?”

“Of course not.”

“Has Faith ever apologized.”

“Yeah. But at the time, I wasn’t ready to hear it.”

“Seems like you’re still not.”

“Wow, thanks John.”

“Again, not a criticism, Sexy. We all give forgiveness in our own way, and in our own time. All I’m saying is that I think you both deserve a do over. Maybe give yourself permission to start fresh? Something tells me that Faith would welcome that, too.”

Buffy didn’t reply as she lathered herself and tilted her head back under the warm spray. After several minutes, she felt John’s hands running soothingly down her body before he pulled her back flush with his front and nipped her neck playfully. 

“Are you upset with me?”

“No. You’re not the first person to give me this advice.”

“My guess is you’ll take it when you’re ready to.” He cuddled her into his embrace and whispered into her ear, “Your Sister Slayer’s are like family in a way, and that is why when family screws us over, it hurts so much more.”

“I know. And for what it’s worth, I appreciate the pep talk. Even if I’m not ready to act on it yet.”

“Duly noted.” John finished rinsing them off, and then he handed Buffy a towel before walking back out into his room to get dressed. “You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Maybe we should bring dinner over?”

“You think that’s necessary?”

“Think of it as an act of good faith.”

“Bad pun.”

John shrugged but didn’t deny it, so Buffy called Faith to make the offer. 

An hour later they were walking into Bruce’s Penthouse with a large vegetarian pizza. 

“Oh my gosh, that smells so _good_.” 

Faith scrambled off the couch, where she was snuggled into Wayne’s side, to greet them with a ravenous gleam in her eye. 

“ _Hungry_?” John quipped.

“Famished.” Faith snarked, holding out her hands for the sustenance. 

“How’s the morning sickness?” Buffy asked as she nodded to Bruce, taking a seat on the floor where Faith had created a little picnic area complete with drinks, napkins, plates and pillows galore. 

John smirked at Wayne, who shrugged helplessly. 

“Faith’s idea.” Was all Gotham’s Prince said. 

“Of course it was my idea, _Mr. I can’t possibly sit on the floor and eat like a normal human being!”_

“Gorgeous, I’m pretty sure people eat at the table too.”

“Not tonight they don’t.” She challenged back. “ _Sit_.”

Bruce sighed in defeat as she slid off the couch and took up the spot next to his girlfriend. Both John and Buffy watched in amusement as Faith handed Bruce a slice of pizza. 

“Not used to having dinner with the _plebes_ , Wayne?”

“Fuck off, John!” Bruce sniped, before taking a bite of his pizza and nodding half-heartedly as he chewed it. 

“You two _behave_.” Faith demanded, offering Buffy a drink and a slice of pizza.

Once they were settled and eating their dinner, John decided to speak up. 

“Do you think there will ever come a time where this, isn’t _this_ awkward?”

Faith snorted, causing Buffy to glare at her while Bruce just rolled his eyes and said... 

“You make it sound as if we’ll be hanging out often, John? Let me _disabuse_ you of that notion right now.”

“Nice, Wayne. And here I thought your social graces were a tad bit more refined.”

“They _are_.” Bruce bantered back, before taking a sip of his water. “Doesn’t mean I enjoy being sociable in general.”

“You two are actually perfect for each other.” Buffy quipped, causing Faith to turn the full weight of her stare on her Sister Slayer. 

“So Bruce keeps telling me.” Faith smirked, earning a deep chuckle from her boyfriend.

“I did earlier.” He winked.

“Several times, if memory serves.” 

“I aim to please.” 

Bruce grabbed Faith’s hand and placed a loving kiss on the back of it, causing her to blush at the heated look he was sending her way. 

“Do you two need some privacy?” John queried playfully. 

“We’re just taking a well deserved time out, from fucking each other silly,” Faith deadpanned, “I’m sure once you two leave later, we can pick up where we left off.”

“Seems as if we’re all on the same page.” Buffy murmured, picking off a slice of onion and set it aside with a grimace. 

“Oh?” Faith grinned mischievously. “Did you have to put a halt into banging each other brains out to bring me this pizza?”

“ _Something_ like that.” Buffy mumbled under her breath, while John just shook his head at how immature both Faith and Buffy could be with each other. 

“So, Wayne?” John decided a change of subject was best, “I never got the chance to thank you properly for the information you sent my way.”

“I’m assuming it helped?”

“Some,” John admitted with a sigh, “I’m still doing some investigating on my own. I just can’t seem to find the connection.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, two of my board members approached me a while back, with the idea to invest in Gentex Pharmaceuticals, which I was reluctant to do. I have to believe that what happened to Zac was connected to motivate me to invest in that company. But I can’t seem to find the missing link.”

“Why do you think they approached you in the first place?” Bruce asked curiously. 

“I met Nelson at a conference a few months before Zac’s assault. His company was struggling, with several lawsuits, but had some interesting ideas for pharmaceutical research. He asked me if I’d be interested in having a prospectus sent over, but I turned him down. A month later, I was approached by the two board members I had you look into for me. I had been so busy with other projects it didn’t even register at the time, until what happened with Zac.”

Faith cocked her head and then asked quietly, “Did this Nelson guy just come up to you out of the blue? Or was he introduced to you by someone else?”

“My girlfriend at the time, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You may have heard of her, she runs a company out of Paris.”

“Miranda Tate?” Bruce questioned, and John nodded. 

“Yes. She heads up Tate Conglomerate.”

Faith glanced over at Buffy, who didn’t seem suspicious nor upset by this piece of news. Faith linked her mind with Buffy’s and asked, “ _You knew about her?_ ”

Buffy made eye contact and nodded once. “ _Why?”_ She responded silently. 

“ _She’s Talia al Ghul.”_ Faith replied into Buffy’s mind, and her Sister Slayer’s gaze narrowed in ire. 

“ _How long have you and Bruce known this?”_

“ _Not long. We weren’t even sure until a couple days ago.”_

“ _You think John knows?”_ Buffy accused. 

“ _No, I don’t think he does. Would you like to tell him, or should Bruce and I do the honors? My guess? The bitch might actually be the culprit behind his nephew getting assaulted. It makes the most sense, right?”_

Buffy averted her gaze as she pondered that supposition, and realized in horror that Faith was probably right. 

“Are you two done having your own little private Idaho?” John griped, only partly irritated. 

“Yeah.” Faith replied, giving Buffy a worried look, before she felt Bruce’s hand on her arm and she nodded once. 

“What am I missing here?” John demanded. 

When Buffy turned to face Faith, she sighed and bowed her head in acquiescence—letting Faith know that she was alright with her taking point on this.

“John?” Faith’s voice was even, “What do you know about Miranda Tate?”

“Why?”

“Well, a couple things actually,” Faith bantered back, “first, I found out today that my boyfriend had a one off with Angelina Jolie a while back.” Faith almost lost it when both Buffy and John just gaped at her like two matching idiots, with the same exact expression on their faces—while Bruce just sat back and pouted. “Don’t get _pissy_ , Krasivyy. You’re far too pretty to look like that.”

Bruce scoffed, but didn’t reply even if his expression promised retribution later. 

“I think that was my general reaction too, although to be fair I might’ve punched a hole in my shower wall.” Faith deadpanned. “But _anyway_...after finding out my dear boyfriend had her digits and half of the Victoria Secret models in his contacts? I might’ve called the woman. But again, in my defense? I did find out that she called Bruce the night before Harvey’s fundraiser when he went AWOL after I told him about the baby.”

“ _Faith_...”

“What? Don’t they deserve some context?” She challenged with an evil little smile. “It’s a much better story this way, don’t you _agree_ , Krasivyy?”

Both John and Buffy nodded eagerly, while Bruce just huffed at being put on the spot. 

“Is this my _punishment_ , Gorgeous?” 

Faith’s shit-eating smile had Bruce shaking his head at her. She could be quite devious when she wanted to be. His answering sly grin, had her biting her lip with intent. 

“You two really need to get a room.” John interrupted, with a coughed emphasis on the last word. 

“Later,” Faith waved her hand before continuing on, “However...in the convo I had with Bruce’s former fuck-buddy, ( _her grin widened when he winced at that)_ , she shared that the work she’s doing for the UN has the backing of several charitable organizations, including Miranda Tate’s. She might’ve even mentioned that Miss Tate was thinking about going to Africa on her refugee trip next month.”

“Ah,” John nodded in understanding. “Miranda did work with the UN some. Her foundation has many outreach programs in third world countries. She spends a lot of time traveling.”

“Did you ever go with her?” Bruce asked easily, taking another sip of his water. 

“Not on a UN trip, but I did travel with her once to Uzbekistan.”

“Really?” Faith sat forward with keen interest. “Why there?”

“She was working with their leader, Kasikov—to implement some kind of green technology platform. There’s a scientist she’s working with over there.”

“Leonid Pavel.” Bruce replied firmly and John gave him a surprised look. 

“Yes, but how did you know that?”

“I have my sources.” 

“Must be really good sources,” John baited, “because I’m fairly certain that no one knew about Pavel other than Miranda and her team. She was trying to patent the technology about a year ago.”

“Why did you two end it, again?” Buffy asked quietly, and John turned to green eyes that were watching him closely. 

He didn’t know why, but he got a sense that something was going on and felt his senses go on alert. 

“I told you, Buffy—long distance relationships don’t work out well when the two people involved aren’t willing to commit equally to it. Miranda was always off to some part of the world. When she invited me to go to Uzbekistan, it was a last ditch effort for me to salvage a years worth of investment I’d made into trying to get to know her better. Like I told you before, I’d always felt with Miranda that I was dealing with two different people. There was the woman she was with me, but there was something else there that I could never reach. After I got back from the trip, we ended things.”

John noticed the three other people in the room all gazing intently at each other, which made his hackles go up noticeably.

“Alright, why do I feel I’m being _interrogated?”_

“John...”

“Buffy, no games. We decided that, right?”

“We did.”

“Then tell me what I’m missing?”

“John?”

Blue eyes turned to darkened brown ones, which were eyeing him like prey. Even Wayne seemed to be on edge too. 

“What?”

“I have one question before I answer yours, alright?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“ _No_.”

“Fine, lay it on me, Faith.”

“Do you know if Miranda had a colleague by the name of Bane?”

John nodded slowly. “I did hear the name a couple of times. He’s her head of security.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

“No. Miranda said that he’s very private and has a condition that doesn’t allow him to go out into public too much.”

Faith nodded and she turned to Bruce—their silence speaking volumes. When Bruce finally spoke, his voice was cold and measured. 

“The night of the ballet, Faith spoke with Vladim.”

“The Russian Premier?”

“Yes.” Bruce admitted. “When we interrogated Crane, he gave us a name.”

“And that was?”

“Talia al Ghul.”

“I don’t know that name.” John admitted, and Faith turned to Buffy who shrugged. 

“We agreed not to mention it to anyone until we had more information, Faith.” Buffy challenged. 

John gave Buffy an inscrutable look, but didn’t say anything as Wayne continued on...

“We know who she really is, or should I say—we know the _fake persona_ she’s using to hide her true identity.”

All three sets of eyes settled on John, and to his credit? It didn’t take him but a minute to make the right conclusion. 

“Miranda? Are you fucking _serious_?” He growled out in rage. 

“Yes. Vladim knew that the woman in question lived in Paris. He also knew about her protector, Bane. He’s not altogether human, apparently. Part man, part machine...part _other_...” Bruce clarified. 

John turned to Buffy and demanded accusingly, “Did you know about Miranda too?”

“Not until tonight.” She admitted with a shrug. “Although, now that I do know, I have to wonder just how much of the shit that’s happened hasn’t been a direct result of her interference or manipulations.”

“ _Such as?”_ John bit back. 

“Zac, Violet, your board members, Crane, Maroni, the Joker— _fuck_...”

“What?” 

“Do you think Roger Wyndham-Pryce?”

“No, B. Bruce initially thought that too, but it seems that was Vladim’s doing.”

“Seriously?” 

“Yep.”

“Wow! Okay?”

“Who’s Roger Wyndham-Pryce?” John queried caustically. 

“He’s the Father of a Watcher that Faith and I shared for a time. Wesley.”

“What happened to him?” John wondered aloud, seeing the pained looks on both Faith and Buffy’s faces. 

“He was killed back in 2004.” Faith replied sadly. 

“I’m sorry,” John offered sincerely, before he asked, “You really think that Miranda might’ve been behind Zac’s assault?”

“It got the desired result, in a roundabout way, right?” Faith asked and John had to admit, that Faith made an excellent point. 

“Are you still on good terms with Miss Tate?” Bruce implored.

“I’ve only spoken to her once in the last year, when she flew into New York and wanted to have dinner. I was flying out to California that weekend, so I had to turn her down.”

“She will be back in New York in a few weeks, according to multiple sources.” Bruce clarified. 

“What do you want me to do?”

“We are still trying to formulate a plan.” Bruce revealed. “But Faith did volunteer for us to go to New York and meet with Angelina. Perhaps it might not be a bad idea for you to find a way into the summit.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult. I do still have some contacts.”

“Good.” 

Bruce nodded, before picking up another piece of pizza and taking a bite. 

“ _What are we going to do about Bane?”_ Buffy demanded silently. “ _You know I’m not going to let that one go.”_

“ _Me neither, B. I do have an idea about that.”_ Faith responded in kind. 

“ _Oh?”_

“ _Magical tracker.”_ Faith replied and winked, causing Buffy to smile in agreement. 

“ _She’ll lead us right back to Bane.”_

“ _Yep_.”

“Are you two going to keep talking amongst yourselves?” Bruce inquired flippantly. “It’s _rude_.”

“But expedient.” Faith retorted back waspishly.

“You know, for two people who get on each other’s nerves as much as you two seem to do,” John challenged, “you’re both awfully comfortable sharing something so intimate as telepathy. Why is that?”

Bruce sat back and lifted an interested eyebrow at the question, while both Buffy and Faith blanched.

“I’d like an answer to that as well.” Bruce admitted softly, his hazel eyes assessing first his girlfriend and then, Miss Summers.

“You both aren’t going to let this go, are you?” Buffy lamented with a heavy sigh. 

“Should we?” John urged with a frown. “It’s clear you both care for each other in whatever way that’s true for you. You’ve had struggles...”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

Buffy cracked while Faith managed to whip out at the exact same time...

“Understatement of the _century_...”

“Thanks for making my point for me.” John remarked blithely. 

“Fuck off, John,” Faith warned, “arm chair Psychology is _so_ not attractive.”

“Noted, but neither is holding onto petty grievances years after the fact like you’re both still seniors in high school.”

“Ouch!” Buffy cried, while Faith just replied disdainfully, “I _never_ got that far in my education, John. I was in a coma that year.”

“Faith...”

“Yeah, B?”

“Are we really going to bring _that_ up again.”

“Not my first choice, but perhaps I might just clarify one teensy-weensy point?”

“Which is?”

“You didn’t win that fight...I _let you gut me.”_

Buffy’s gaze narrowed and Faith could tell she was feeling her out for any signs of bullshit...the second Buffy’s eyes widened and her face paled, Faith grinned malevolently. 

“You _finally_ get it, don’t you? Why I did everything I did? Do you finally understand, yet?”

Buffy glanced over at Bruce, who was sitting there glaring at her in what Buffy could only describe as disappointment tinged with dislike. 

“You _wanted_ me to kill you?”

“Bingo!” Faith cocked her head in triumph. “You see, I knew about the cure, and I knew you’d come after me. I also knew you wouldn’t kill me yourself, but I knew you’d bring me to Angel and in his frenzy?”

“He’d drain you dry.”

“Got it in one.” Faith shook her head in disgust. “I’d never meant to kill anyone, but you were so self-righteous about it and you never even asked me why I struggled with my powers. It was never about enjoying it...”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“And I _did_ , didn’t I?”

Buffy didn’t have a reply to that, so Faith continued... 

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I shared with Bruce earlier tonight. It was never about the rage, or the anger...it was about the _power_. About feeling powerless to fight the darkness and having nothing of my **own** (the last word was said with so much venom, it made Buffy flinch), to give me something tangible and good to hold onto. I was powerless to stop my Father from killing my Mother in front of me. I was powerless to stop Kakistos from gutting my Watcher in front of me. I was powerless in having to share a calling with you, a calling I wasn’t ready for and had no one to help me that wasn’t connected to _you_. So I tried to take back some of that power in the only way available to me. Tell me, B? Can you honestly say that had you been in my shoes, you’d have made the better choices? You resented having to share your toys with me. _That’s the fucking truth._ Angel, Willow, Xander, Giles, even your Mom. I get it. I really do. It was never supposed to be me _and_ you—but that’s what we got stuck with. I looked up to you, and tried to find a way to fit into your life in whatever way you’d have me, but it became pretty clear early on? You didn’t want me, except in the ways that worked for you. Tell me I’m wrong?”

Buffy glared at Faith and eventually bit out, “You’re _not_.”

“Well, at least you gave me that much.”

“You tried to steal my life, Faith...”

“ ** _Whatever!”_** Faith crowed loudly. “The fact is? It wasn’t just your life? Your calling, nor your destiny, you _selfish_ bitch! So? I did the right thing in the end as I saw it. I let you win and I figured that, was that. When I woke up, I was **pissed** because you’d decided to let Angel bite you, and left me to rot in this hell hole. Then you died, and I was still stuck in this hell hole except—did you even think about what might’ve happened to me _when_ you’d died?”

“What are you talking about?”

“ _I felt you die._ I knew the moment it happened and all the Slayer Powers reverted to me in full.” Buffy gasped and Faith nodded in satisfaction. “I was _stuck_ in that hell hole knowing that for all my powers, I was _powerless_ yet again. And then you came back and what was given, was taken back once again for me to _share_. Not exactly in the same way as before. Even then, I’d knew you’d come back... _wrong_.” 

Buffy paled ashen, causing John to hiss as he warned coldly, “That’s a line you _don’t_ get to cross, Faith.”

Dark brown eyes considered him, but to her credit, Faith nodded reluctantly before she continued on...

“I could’ve walked at any time, we both know that...”

“But you waited until Angel needed you...”

“Of course I did, because he was the only one who was ever concerned with saving my soul. Wesley betrayed me twice. You betrayed me too. Maybe not quite as fucked up as I did to you with Riley, but _still_? If you think for one moment, that you have any kind of moral high ground in this fucked up dance we’ve been doing? You’d be _wrong_.”

Buffy could feel both John and Bruce staring at her intently, but all she could feel was anger at being called out in such a way. 

“I loved you, B. I would’ve died for you. I almost did. Can you honestly say, that you would’ve made that sacrifice for me?”

“Yes.”

“Because you cared for me, or because of obligation?”

“Both. That’s why it hurt so much, Faith! I loved you too, but you were so...”

“And so were you, B.”

Buffy nodded and averted her gaze, staring out into the night sky as she considered everything Faith had shared. 

But Faith wasn’t the only one with truths to share this night...

“If we’re doing the baring our soul confessions, then perhaps you might need to be educated on a few of my truths, Faith.”

“Have at it.”

“When I died the first time, I had no idea what coming back would entail. When Kendra showed up, it was more than I could handle. She was by the book, no emotion, and I had to try and learn to co-exist with her first. I think sometimes in your anger at me? You forget, that there was someone who came _before_ you. Kendra told me once, that I treated slaying as a job. But it wasn’t, it was who I was. _Who she was._ It was all she was. She was taken from her parents at a young age and given to her Watcher, Zabuto. She had no love for life, no passion. She was nothing but the calling. My stake, Mr. Pointy?”

“Yeah?”

“It was Kendra’s. It’s the only thing I have left from her after Drusilla killed her.” Buffy smirked sadly at that thought. “When she first came to Sunnydale, she saw me with Angel and assumed I was a vamp too. She captured Angel in a cage, and eventually let him go and left Sunnydale to return to her Watcher, only coming back when Angel was turned. We both know why that happened, right?”

“Yes.”

“Kendra returned, and brought the sword that I eventually used to kill both Angel and Acathla with. But because I’d begged Kendra to stay with Willow, so she could restore Angel’s soul, she was killed protecting her.”

“And you killed Angel anyway.”

“Right _after_ his soul had been returned.”

Faith’s eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t tell anyone for the longest time, and that was why when Angel returned to the land of the living? I protected him. I was expelled from Sunnydale High when Snyder thought I’d killed Kendra. Later, I was cleared but the guilt was a hard thing to deal with and then you showed up...”

“The complete opposite of Kendra.”

“ _So opposite.”_ Buffy chuckled. “And suddenly, I had to be the responsible one. Kendra had taught me that. I was _you_ , before she came along—and I missed being that Buffy. I never got to be her again.”

“She was right, for the record.”

“I know she was. I think about her often.” Buffy admitted sadly. “Then Dawn happened and it made me so angry that the Powers would choose to manipulate me like that.”

“I don’t understand.” John asked quietly. “I thought Dawn is your sister?”

“She is, but we didn’t grow up together. She was forged using my blood. She was energy, a temporal key that opened our world into a Hell Dimension.”

“That’s why you sacrificed yourself?”

“Yes.” Buffy turned back to Faith and said seriously, “When I fought the Hell God, I had hoped to stop the ritual before the portal could open but that wasn’t in the cards. Dawn had been cut, and her blood had opened the portal. It was in that moment I’d realized, I was _so_ ready to die, too. I was done. Sineya told me _death was my gift.”_

“The first Slayer?”

“Yep. She came to me in a vision quest from the Powers that Be. I didn’t initially realize what she’d meant until I was standing on the tower, as the hell dimension ripped into our world and I had to make the choice.”

“And it wasn’t a hard choice, was it?”

“No. It was the _easiest_ choice I’ve ever made.”

Faith nodded, ignoring Bruce’s weighted gaze on her. 

Even John seemed dismayed by their conversation. 

“When I came back...when I was _ripped out of heaven.._.” Buffy turned to Bruce and saw his eyes widen in sudden realization—he bowed his head humbly to her... “everything _hurt_. It was all too much, being here. It took almost losing Dawn a second time, for me to realize that I wanted to try and live. Then the First came, and the Potentials. Before I made the decision to go after the Scythe, I sought out the Shadow Men. I had decided to spare you, and the girls the fate that awaited them and decided to merge back the with Shadow Demon.”

Faith hissed in shock, while both Bruce and John just stared at her stupefied.

“In the end? I couldn’t do it. I incapacitated the demon and left. Then I returned, and you all decided to toss me out of my _own_ home, betraying me too. But Spike found me, and in that moment gave me the strength I needed to go after the Scythe and kill Caleb. Making the decision to share our powers?”

“Sucked.”

“It _did_. I didn’t want to thrust our powers onto any of those girls, knowing what likely awaited them down in the Hell Mouth. But I also knew, that the choice had to be there’s. You and me, Faith? We were _never_ given the choice...it’s true. But as responsible as I felt for you? I feel it keenly a hundred times more, for each one of the junior brigade.”

“And you don’t think I do too?”

“No, I know you do.” Buffy nodded. “But they don’t have our fucked up history.”

“Nope, and frankly? I don’t think they care all that much either. They just want us to get along. It’s like we’re their quasi-fucked up parental figures, and all we do is fight. We can’t get a divorce, B. Slaying doesn’t work that way.”

“No, I don’t suppose a divorce would work.”

John and Bruce locked gazes and both men silently wondered the same thing—

Would Faith and Buffy ever be able to get over their past hurts and truly forgive?

“So what _now?”_ John asked sincerely. “Can you both put the past where it needs to be and move forward?”

“Why is this so important to you?” Buffy replied, while Bruce just scoffed. 

“Because, Buffy—if John is anything like I am, he’d rather not have the woman he’s in a relationship with, beating herself up unnecessarily.”

“Is that true?”

“Yes, it is.” John admitted with a firm nod. “I happen to think that both you and Faith would be _unstoppable_ if you both could get out of your own way long enough to make it happen.”

“You’re kind of a jerk, too.” 

Faith complained with an eye roll. 

“Just because I say it like it is, doesn’t make me a jerk.” John bantered back with a smirk. “You two are just too used to running the show, but you both now have to learn to compromise.”

Faith glanced at Buffy, and asked silently, “ _Is he really that good of a lay? Cause if not, I say kick his ass for being such an arrogant, controlling tool.”_

Buffy snickered, causing John to glare down at her even as she replied in kind, “ _He’s amazing. His refractory time...just damn.”_

“ _Bruce, too. We’re both screwed, you know that right?”_

“ _Literally, figuratively...it’s all the same.”_

“ _How stubborn do we need to be about this?_ ” Faith asked silently, and Buffy shrugged. 

“ _He wants to take me out on a real date.”_

“ _Oh? I take it you’ve not given the all clear for PDA?”_

“ _No. If I do, my face is going to be outed same as you.”_

Faith didn’t reply right away, but when she did she just asked simply, “ _Do you think he’s worth it?”_

“ _Strangely, I do.”_ Buffy lifted an eyebrow and asked playfully, “ _And Wayne? He really fucked Angelina Jolie?”_

“ _Yes! Rub it in, bitch.”_

Buffy snorted. “ _You do know that he’s totally yours. The man looks at you, like you hung the moon.”_

“ _Really?”_

“ _Mmhmm. So you might try and give the guy a break.”_

“ _Maybe you should take your own advice. Seems like John might have an issue or two with being in a relationship with someone who doesn’t want to make the same commitment he does.”_

Buffy nodded, but didn’t respond as she averted her gaze again. 

“You both **done**?” Bruce piped in, and Faith hummed in the affirmative. “Good. And is this the last time we’re going to have to deal with the Faith and Buffy history show coming out in unpleasant ways?”

“Bruce...”

“No, Gorgeous. I’m a fairly patient man, but even I have my limits and I’m not going to sit idly by why you continue to beat yourself up for something that can’t be changed. You _aren’t_ the same person anymore, and you’ve learned from your mistakes. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be the person you are now.” Bruce then turned to Buffy and offered, “I asked Faith a while back if there was anything that might ever tempt her to go back to whom she was before. Her answer was a resounding ‘ _no_ ,’ and I think deep down, you know it too.”

“I do.”

“Then why can’t you forgive her?”

“Because she can’t forgive herself.” John said with clarity, his gaze moving from Buffy to Faith in sudden comprehension. “That’s it, isn’t it. Neither one of you have forgiven yourselves yet, so you can’t let go and forgive each other?”

Buffy turned her head to her...whatever he was...and stared at him morosely. 

“Got it all figured out, _Freud?”_

“That’s harsh, Buffy.”

“He’s not wrong.” Bruce engaged, with a glance towards his girlfriend. “Is he?”

“No.” Faith admitted casually...probably a lot more aloof than she would admit to feeling at the moment. “He’s right, B. For what it’s worth, I’m not upset about any of it anymore. It just makes me sad.”

Buffy bit her lip as she considered how she still felt after all this time. 

“I suppose I know that feeling.”

“It’s Angel, isn’t it?” John surmised suddenly, and by the quick whip of Buffy’s head in his direction and Faith’s gasp—John figured he’d finally gotten to the crux of the matter. 

Even Bruce was shaking his head, as if he couldn’t believe it was that simple. 

“He loves you _both_.” He said sincerely. 

“But he _chose_ to save me.” Faith replied softly, her voice cracking on the last word. “ _That’s it, isn’t it, B_? Angel in that moment, chose to save me over his love and loyalty for you.”

Buffy’s green eyes glittered with raw emotion and she nodded, not trusting in her voice to speak the truth. 

“Are you still in love with him?” John asked, his voice tinged with hurt. 

“No. I will always care about Angel, probably much in the same way Bruce cares about Rachel Dawes, but we can’t be together.”

“Because he’s cursed, right? If he experiences one moment of true happiness, he loses his soul again.” 

John supplied, and Buffy’s whole body went ridged with shock. 

“How?”

“He told me.” John confessed. “That night when I came to London...”

“He was at the club,” Buffy nodded. “I sensed him there.”

“He wanted to know what my intentions were towards you. Threatened me with ruination and all sorts of bodily harm should I hurt you. He was serious.”

“That’s Angel.” Faith agreed. 

“He did the same to me.” Bruce mentioned and John nodded in reply. 

“He told me.”

“I’m sorry he did that, John.” Buffy murmured, but John just shook his head. 

“I’m _not_. He needed to do it, and I needed to hear it.”

Buffy was now looking at him in confusion. 

“You really mean that?”

“Of course, Sweetness...why would you think I wouldn’t mean it?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy admitted sheepishly, “it’s not everyday you find out the woman you’re seeing has a vampire for an ex.”

“Well, apparently if we’re grading on a curve? My dubious list of exes is just as convoluted as yours.”

Buffy giggled and then bowed her head in reluctant agreement. 

“Apparently.” 

“You know,” John began, “The last time we were here, you mentioned there was a group that you’d joined on your time overseas, Wayne. Just where does Miranda fit into all of this?”

“She’s the daughter of the man who recruited me.”

“So his real surname was al Ghul too?”

“Ra’s al Ghul.”

John shook his head. “And the name of the organization?”

Bruce sighed in defeat, and felt Faith’s hand on his leg squeezing it with reassurance.

“The League of Shadows.”

John paled. “You’ve got to be _shitting_ me?” All three sets of eyes focused on John, but he was staring at Wayne with pure fury. “You were a part of that cult of killers?”

“You know of it?”

“Enough to know they’re nothing but a glorified terrorist organization.”

“How?” 

Buffy asked curiously, and even Faith seemed confused until her expression cleared. 

“Afghanistan?”

John nodded. “When I was in country we knew the Taliban was working with another organization. My unit had received intel that there was a meeting that was to take place six clicks from Kabul, and we were sent in to do recon, gather the intel and head back to report our findings. We had made it in, got the information but somehow they knew we had been there. The roadside bomb that killed my best friend and injured me, also killed three others in my unit. When I came to, I was back in the military hospital, along with those who’d survived. In my debriefing, my commanding officer had asked me, along with the rest of my unit—if we had heard anything specifically about a group called the League of Shadows. I told him that I hadn’t, but he went on to explain that intelligence had indicated that they were responsible for the bombing.”

“He lied.” Bruce said matter-of-factly. “Or was misinformed.”

“Why do you say that, Wayne?” John demanded hotly. 

“Because I trained with the League for seven years and in all that time? There was no mention of any operations in that part of the world. If it was a coordinated effort, it wasn’t Ra’s. That wasn’t his way.”

“Could it have been Talia?” Buffy asked. 

Bruce shrugged, but couldn’t discount it either. 

“Vladim did mention that Bane had been excommunicated from Ra’s organization. Perhaps Talia followed Bane? I never met her when I was with the League, and Vlad did also mention that she had left Ra’s group before I arrived on scene. So, it’s not outside the realm of possibility to assume that perhaps they were running their own faction of the League even then?”

“So let’s assume for a moment that you’re both right,” Faith postulated, “that Ra’s wasn’t the one working behind the scenes in Afghanistan, but Talia was. What’s her play? Is she just trying to create chaos, like Jack said? Or is there something larger she’s after?”

“You killed her Dad, right?” John eyed Bruce skeptically, and he shrugged. 

“I didn’t kill him _per say,_ I just didn’t choose to save him when the time came. He sealed his own fate when he tried to destroy Gotham and thousands of innocent lives, and I won’t apologize for it either.”

“Wow, Wayne! I don’t know whether to be disgusted, or impressed by your callousness.”

“I frankly, don’t care either way, John.” Bruce leant forward with a hard glare, his body coiled in repose. “Sure, I was naive when I joined the League. What Ra’s taught me at that time, coincided with my own beliefs about how the criminal fraternity flourished in Gotham without impunity. I could’ve chosen to join Ra’s in his mission, but I made a different choice. Hence, why he came here and burnt my home down in retaliation for me burning down his when I’d realized what it would cost me to capitulate to his ideology. I chose to try and save Gotham, because despite what you might choose to believe about me? I owed it to my parents memories to try and shake Gotham out of its apathy. If I stood by and let the Maroni’s, Gambol’s and Crane’s of the world win? Then my parents died for _nothing_. That’s not a reality I could live with.”

John didn’t know what to say to Wayne’s impassioned speech. It was clear he felt a sense of responsibility to Gotham, which he could appreciate. He could also understand the warrior mindset of never say die. Semper Fi was still ingrained into his psyche, even today. He held his loyalties to those things he cared for, close to his heart and chose to help where he could in his own way. 

To make a difference...

“I’m not sure if I agree with how you’ve chosen to fight, Wayne—but even I can’t deny that the why is admirable.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Bruce...really?”

Glancing at his girlfriend, Bruce sighed and bowed his head in submission at her admonishment. 

“Sorry, Gorgeous.”

“It’s fine, really.” Faith reassured, “I’d like to believe that John wasn’t trying to be a dick.”

“Wow, Faith...” John chuckled deeply. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Five by five. Besides, you‘re both Alpha males, and as cute as I find it? Please remember that Buffy and I could wipe the floor with either one of you.”

Buffy giggled, and nodded in agreement, while Bruce and John just glared at them both respectively. 

“Is this what I’m going to have to look forward to, Gorgeous?”

“I thought you were a _traditionalist_ , Krasivyy?”

“Really? You’re going to hold that against me _now_?”

Faith shrugged, glancing down at her fingers with faux interest—even as Buffy and John side-eyed each other questioningly.

“What are we missing?” Buffy queried. 

“Nothing.” Faith purred challengingly. 

“It’s _not_ nothing, Gorgeous.” Bruce growled in warning. 

“Okay?” John coughed in amusement, before his eyes widened in disbelief. He turned to Wayne, a grin cracking over his handsome features as he snorted out a rich laugh. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me? _You?_ Really?”

“ _Shut up, John!”_ Bruce gritted, his teeth gnashing in warning. 

“What?” Buffy’s question, filtered over the room as she eyed each person in turn. “Faith?”

Her sister Slayer blushed in embarrassed shame as she bowed her head down, not wanting to see Bruce’s expression. 

Even John seemed suddenly unsure. 

Eventually Bruce sighed. 

“I might’ve brought up the subject of marriage today.”

Buffy squeaked out a hiss, while John’s face broke out into another wicked grin. 

Faith however, just kept looking down into her lap, her hands twisting in her discomfort. 

“And what did our dear Faith say?” 

Buffy asked after several moments of heavy silence. 

“I told him it was too soon to discuss it,” Faith admitted softly, her brown eyes lifting with tears of distress. “We aren’t even living together yet. I’m pregnant, hormonal and can’t go and out and Slay because I don’t want to lose this baby, after everything that’s happened. Compared to two months ago? I’d say my life has done a complete one-eighty.”

“Faith...”

“ _Don’t, okay?_ ” She wiped at her eyes in frustration. “This isn’t me feeling sorry for myself. It’s me realizing that...”

“It’s not just you against the world, anymore.” Buffy finished and Faith nodded.

“Something like that. I don’t know how I’m going to raise a baby, be a good mom and keep this one in line.”

Bruce’s body relaxed, as he pulled Faith into his embrace and kissed her temple lovingly. 

“You’ll be the _best_ Mom, Gorgeous. Trust me on this.”

Faith nodded into his shoulder, and Buffy could see how hard this was for Faith. 

She was right. Her entire life had changed on a dime in the last two months, and she’d not once pitched a fit, nor wallowed in self-pity...

She’d risen to the occasion and gone with the flow...

Buffy shook her head at that thought. 

_Faith had really changed._

“I’m _sorry_ , for the record.”

Faith’s gaze lifted in astonishment, while Bruce and John just sat back stunned. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry, Faith. I’m sorry I keep expecting you to revert back to the girl you were before. I’m sorry I haven’t taken the time to really see that you’ve changed for the better. Bruce is right. You’re not the same person that you were at seventeen. I’m not sure I could’ve handled all you’ve been dealt with these past months and not wanted to run and hide. The Faith from before, would’ve done either that, or blamed someone else for it.”

“What good would that do me?” Faith challenged back. “I can’t change who I am anymore. For good or bad, it’s all on me. I’m a Slayer, that will never change—but I’m also Nickolayevna...my prababushka’s Heir. How in the world could I ever deny that side of me. I grew up respecting my Russian heritage. My prababushka and babushka both married Russian spouses. I remember my babushka being rather unhappy with my Mother’s choice. He was only half Russian, half Irish. Although he did speak Russian fluently.”

“You never made the connection in all the time you were a kid, that your great-grandmother might’ve been a Romanov?” John asked curiously and Faith shook her head emphatically.

“No, but looking back on it now, the signs were there. I was just too young to understand.”

“What signs?” Bruce asked quietly, and Faith hummed uncomfortably, pushing herself into his side further, and feeling relieved when he welcomed the overture. 

“I knew my prapraded’s name—Nicholas, but nothing more than that. My babushka, would read to me the story of Emelya and the Pike often. She once told me that someday, the line of Tsars would live again. It never made much sense to an eight year old girl, but I suppose looking back on it? I should’ve known.”

“I don’t know that story.” John admitted. “Old Russian fairytale?”

“Yes. Emelya was was the youngest of three sons. He was known as Emelya the Fool, and was given a magic pike. He wished it to do his bidding and eventually his exploits reached the ears of the Tsar, who sent a Nobel to fetch him to the palace. The Tsar’s daughter fell in love with Emelya, and they were banished. But with the pike, Emelya built his own palace, and kingdom—and when the Tsar discovered the new palace...he went to meet with Emelya, only to be confronted with the fact that he was the one who’d been banished. The Tsar, begged for forgiveness and promised Emelya the kingdom.”

“That’s pretty apropos.”

“I thought so, too.” Faith sighed sadly. 

“Have you heard from any of the other distant Romanov family members?”

“Some.” Faith admitted with a shrug. “The Queen and her husband Phillip, called me soon after the discovery and they were rather accepting. He even mentioned that there were a few of the Nobels in Britain, who are distantly related to me. They offered to make the formal introductions, whenever I’m ready.”

“Shit.” Buffy shook her head. “What did you tell them?”

“That I appreciated the gesture, but probably would need to wait until I received some kind of invite from Russia first. That I owed it to my family, to make sure that my first official engagement was in Russia.”

“And?”

“Vladim invited me to Unity Day on November 4th. It will be held in St. Petersburg. He even mentioned he had a gift for me.”

“Wow!” John nodded intrigued. “What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. He’s a snake in the grass, but I think he genuinely likes me, so that’s something.”

“He threatened to, and I quote, ‘ _skin me alive’_ if anything happened to Faith or our child.” 

Bruce chuckled, earning an incredulous look from his girlfriend and two snorts of laughter from their guests. 

“Nice guy.” John deadpanned, and Bruce smirked in agreement. 

“So you’re going, I take it?”

“Yep. I’ll even be wearing my Prababushka’s necklace. There’s a painting of her in the Hermitage wearing it, so I’m hoping I’ll get to see it.”

“My supposition is one of the events will probably be there.” John mused thoughtfully. “I tend to think he might just invite some of the other dignitaries from around the world. There is a Romanov family heritage foundation that is run by some of the peripheral members of the family.”

“Huh?” Faith sat back and scrunched her face in thought. “I probably should look at some of the stuff that Eric has given to me to go over.”

“Probably.” Bruce agreed, kissing her temple again. “You need to get back to Karl, too.”

“I know.” 

Bruce glanced down at his watch and noted the time. 

“You could call or email him. It’s about one in the morning his time, but I’m sure he’s still awake.”

Faith bit her lip and nodded reluctantly, excusing herself for the moment as she grabbed her cell phone and dialed the number. Bruce smirked when he heard Faith telling Karl that she’d hoped it was okay to call so late. 

“I can’t imagine how all surreal this has got to be for her.” John offered, watching Faith leave the room with a contemplative expression on his face. 

“She’s handling it remarkably well.” Bruce clarified easily before he turned his attention to Buffy. “Faith really needs someone handling her correspondence and other issues. Do you think this Roger Wyndham-Pryce can be trusted?”

“Giles talked to him the other day, actually. I was going to mention it to Faith, but there’s been other issues to deal with.”

“What did Giles say?”

“He seemed to believe that Roger was genuine in his desire to help. Apparently Wesley’s correspondence with his Father wasn’t all that detailed after he’d been let go from the Watcher’s council. Roger knew about Faith going rogue, and her helping to defeat the First. Apparently, she went to LA to help Angel and Wesley fight the Senior Partners too.”

“She told me.”

“Giles believes that he can be trusted.”

“And you?”

“I’m reserving judgement.” Buffy admitted reluctantly. “Roger is old school Watcher material. He was trained under Quinton, who was the previous head of the IWC and a right piece of work. Quinton was the one who went after Faith. He was killed with most of the Watcher’s Council in 2002, when the First attacked the IWC headquarters in London. Giles has spent the past five years, rebuilding the IWC with Angel’s help.”

“Just how many active Slayers are there now?”

Buffy shook her head. “Only Giles and Willow know for sure. That’s not information I need to have.”

“Why?” John asked intrigued. “Wouldn’t it help for you to know?”

“Not especially,” Buffy prevaricated, “Willow has a direct link to all of us, because she activated the Scythe to give the potentials their powers. But even her powers have limits.”

“Hence why she couldn’t find Violet, when she was taken?” Bruce wondered, and Buffy nodded. 

“She knew that Violet was alive, and in Gotham but beyond that...”

“That’s why you initially came here, wasn’t it?”

“One of the reasons, yes.”

Bruce nodded thoughtfully, as things were starting to make a bit more sense. 

“Lucius will have the serum done by the end of the month.”

“That’s good news. I’m sure Giles will be happy to hear that.”

“How will you administer it?” John asked. 

“Angel will put the word out through Wolfram and Hart globally. He will be sending trusted individuals to each part of the globe to give the serum antidote to all the potentials.”

“How did Lucius know how much to create without the actual numbers?”

“Giles gave him a rough estimate.” Buffy replied. 

John’s brow furrowed as another thought came to him. 

“How do we know that Miranda hasn’t tried what she did to Violet, with another Slayer?”

“After what happened to Violet, Giles instituted an emergency protocol that Faith and I put into place a few years back. If, any of the potentials were compromised, Willow believes when we reactivated the Scythe it should’ve been enough mojo to purge the brainwashing completely. We’re hoping that the residual magic from the surge, will give the Potentials enough protection until we can administer the antidote.”

“But you don’t know for sure?”

“No,” Buffy admitted, “but when we activated it the first time, Slayers were called from all over the world— _everywhere_. The Slayer powers are formidable, and based on intel that Giles has gotten from his Watcher network? There hasn’t been any signs, that any other girls were compromised other than Violet. My guess? Miranda was probably waiting to activate Violet at the right time, and once that didn’t happen? She probably either figured Crane’s drug didn’t work, or we found a way to counteract it.”

“Which means she’ll regroup and try to find another way in?” Bruce postulated, and Buffy nodded. 

“Or, maybe go back to her original recruiting strategy?”

“Sounds plausible.”

At that moment Faith walked back into the room and plopped down next to Bruce, who immediately, cuddled her into his side. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. He’s sending the info to Lucius and it should be here in a couple days. Did we ever get that diplomatic pouch from Vlad?”

“It’ll be here tomorrow first thing.”

Faith nodded.

“Diplomatic pouch? Seriously?” John whistled, impressed. 

“What’s that?” Buffy solicited. 

“It’s exactly what it sounds like,” John explained, “diplomatic pouches are protected correspondence that are usually highly classified and given diplomatic immunity from search and seizure.”

“That’s kinda heavy.” Buffy turned to Faith, and she huffed softly. 

“I have no idea what’s in it.”

“We were just talking about Roger,” Buffy offered, “and Giles spoke with him too. You might want to at least meet with him to get a sense of where he’s at.”

“I guess.” 

Faith fiddled with the hem of Bruce’s shirt nervously, and everyone could see how uncomfortable she was. 

“Why don’t you ask Giles to contact him and be there when you meet him?” Bruce suggested and Faith tilted her head on his shoulder, her gaze locking with Buffy’s—and the blonde Slayer silently agreed with the idea. 

“Fine.” 

Glancing at his own watch, John then reached for Buffy’s hand to get her attention. “We should probably head on out?”

“Sure.”

Everyone stood, and Bruce offered John his hand—which the other man shook firmly. Buffy nodded to Faith and Bruce before John led her to the elevator. After they were gone, Bruce redirected Faith back over to their spot on the floor. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“Then let’s go to bed.”

“Together?”

Bruce scooped Faith up into his arms, smiling at her squeal of delight as he carried her up to his room—effectively answering her question and shutting down any protests she might have to the contrary.


	47. Letting Go and Giving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Buffy deal with trying to work out their relationship issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit content...skip if that isn’t your thing.

The elevator ride down from Wayne’s Penthouse into the garage was quiet. Buffy didn’t seem to know what to say, and John wasn’t exactly sure how to approach the topic that was bothering him. As they approached his Porsche, he opened the door for Buffy but she just stood there staring at him sadly. 

“What?”

“I’m going to find my own way back to Gotham Terrace.”

John sighed softly, closing the passenger door, and reaching for Buffy before she could bolt. 

“What is it?” He inquired softly.

“I just think we need to take a step back for a while.”

“ _No_.”

“John...”

“No.” He shook his head emphatically. “You’re _scared_ , I get it. You think that somehow being with me, means giving up who you are.”

“I _know_ who I am.”

“And who are you Buffy Summers? Beyond the Slaying?”

Buffy glared at him, and his stupid smug smirk. 

“That’s just the _point_ , John,” she began forcefully, “I _am_ the Slayer. So it’s the biggest part of who I am.”

“But you’re also a sister, and a friend too, right?”

“I am.”

“So why is it so hard for you to include ‘ _girlfriend_ ’ into your circle?” John demanded emphatically, “I’m not asking for more than that. Neither one of us are ready for that, yet.”

“But you want it, right?”

“What is it you think I want?”

“You want to go public?”

“I do, and that concerns you.”

“It does,” Buffy admitted, “how can I go after Talia and Bane, if they see me coming?”

John shook his head. “Sweetness, I hate to break it to you, but my guess? They already know who you _are_.”

“I get that, but they may not know that you and I are a thing.”

“A _thing_?” John snorted. “Could you make it sound even more _impersonal_?”

Buffy lifted her arms over her head and turned around in a huff—pulling away from him, but John just watched her with an indulgent smile on his handsome face. 

“You’re using this to push me away,” He said matter-of-factly, “and news flash, Sweetness? That’s so _not_ happening.”

“Why are you being such a jerk about this?”

“Because I can be,” he chuckled, “and you _like_ that I am. You need someone who isn’t going to let you walk all over them. Who’s going to fight back and fight with you. Who’s not afraid to stand with you when things go to shit. But mostly, deep down? You desperately want someone to prove that they’re going to put you first.” He leant down, his face now inches from hers, his blue eyes glittering in challenge, “Tell me I’m _wrong_.”

Buffy bit her lip and stared up into eyes that were bluer than anything she’d ever seen. Stormy like the ocean when he was upset or irritated, clear like a bright summer day when he was happy...

...right now they looked like bits of chipped ice...

“You’re not.”

“Huh? Go _figure_.”

“I’m two seconds away from kicking your ass.”

John’s face morphed into a feral grin as he said deeply, “Take your best shot.”

Buffy snorted and turned to leave, causing John to grip her arm to prevent her from walking away. She turned around and pushed at him...knocking him back against his car. His first expression was surprise, but then his face morphed into something more predatory, and the next thing Buffy knew—he came right at her. 

She dodged his lunge easily enough but was surprised when his leg swiped behind him, knocking her down to her knees. When she glanced up, John was standing over her with a wicked smirk on his face. 

“Are we really going to do this here?” Buffy warned and John shrugged. 

“Good of a place as any. Or if you want? We go back to mine and have it out there?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“To prove to you that I can stand with you. That I’m not going to balk if or when things go bad.”

“And what about Zac?” Buffy lamented. “If they go after him because you’re with me? What _then_?”

John’s face paled and Buffy folded her arms across her chest instinctively, putting up a protective barrier for the inevitable.

“You didn’t think about that, _did you_?” She mocked. “If I’m right, Miranda has already gone after Zac once. She used him to get you to do what she wanted for some reason I still don’t get. Maybe it was to make sure her little brainwashing drug—and the antidote, was somewhere she had some control over it. She probably knew that if push came to shove, she could use Zac against you to keep the potential antidote away from me, or the IWC if she managed to succeed with Violet.”

John took a horrified step back, as he considered Buffy’s words and couldn’t find a single fault in her logic. 

“So you see?” She went on brutally, “This has no happy ending for me. I lose either way. Because if something happens to Zac, you’ll blame me and if you’re forced to choose between Zac and me?”

John couldn’t deny it. He made a promise to his best friend and he’d already let him down once. 

He couldn’t do it again. 

“I don’t blame you, John.” Buffy shrugged helplessly. “He’s your family. I’ve _died_ to save mine, so I get where your priorities need to be.”

“Buffy, it’s not like that.”

“Not like what?”

John rubbed his hands down his face in desperation, before holding his right hand out for her. 

“Come home with me and let me explain. Give me a chance to work this out with you? Don’t run because you’re afraid of what might happen. We can try and figure out a way to protect Zac and do this together. I don’t want to lose you.”  
  
Buffy shook her head and went to leave, but John’s voice stopped her cold. 

“Tell me you don’t want this with me?” He pleaded. “Tell me that when we’re together, that it’s not the most right you’ve ever felt in your entire life...and I’ll drive away without so much as a backwards glance.”

Lifting her head up to the garage ceiling, Buffy breathed deeply through her nose and closed her eyes as images of her time with John assaulted all her senses. The way she felt when he touched her, kissed her...

...when he fucked her until she couldn’t remember her own name...

“I _can’t_.” She whispered out on a broken gasp. 

She sensed him moving right behind her, the heat from his body and the intoxicating smell of his cologne like her own personal aphrodisiac. He didn’t touch her however, he just stood there—his breath on the back of her neck causing goosebumps to erupt onto her arms, and her core clenching with need. 

“Tell me you don’t crave me, like I crave you? Tell me that when I’m balls deep inside your perfect pussy, that it’s not the closest thing to a religious experience you’ve ever had?”

“I can’t.” 

Her voice came out almost as a desperate whine, and she felt his chest rumbling with satisfaction as he moved so close, their bodies were almost touching. 

“Tell me that you don’t want everything with me? That when you close your eyes at night and look into the future, you don’t see me beside you? In your life, in your bed, in your _heart_?”

“John...”

“Tell me, Sweetness. Tell me true.”

“I _can’t_.” 

She sobbed, and then felt John wrap his arms around her and pull her flush with his body, which was hard and ready for her. 

His lips nibbled on her ear, and she felt her nipples harden instantly through her shirt. His soft rumble of satisfaction, let Buffy know he noticed her visceral reaction to him. 

“We were made for each other.” He purred deeply into her ear. “I can’t let you go. Don’t you get it yet?”

“What?”

“This is beyond simple want or desire. I need you, like I need to breathe. The thought of another man tasting your sweetness, of touching all those perfect places that make you cry out with need, of seeing you smile and watching you fight...of holding you as you go to sleep and being there first thing when you wake up the next morning, purring contently as you do, when you rub yourself up to me? Do you really think that for one second, I’m ever going to allow another man to take what is mine?”

“John...”

“Tell me, my sweet girl? Tell me you’ve ever wanted another man, like you want me?”

“I can’t.”

“Come home with me? We can fix this and find a way through it, I promise. Give me a chance to prove to you that I’m strong enough to stand with you, even if the world burns away.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re it for me, Sweetness. Do I need to say the actual words?”

Buffy shook her head, knowing she wasn’t ready to say them yet either, even if she already knew where her heart was at. Turning in his arms, she gazed up into determined blue eyes that were watching her with baited breath. Leaning up, Buffy offered herself to John Daggett and sighed in relief as he took her offering and made one of his own that was both passionate and possessive. 

She didn’t even realize he’d lifted her off her feet until he felt herself being lowered into his car, and when the door closed...she blinked dazed—and when he got into the driver’s side, he gripped her to him and kissed her again. 

The next thing Buffy knew his door had closed and she was straddling him, facing forward as he pushed her jeans down, reclined his seat back and thrusted two fingers inside of her, causing her to arch her back out at the sudden welcome invasion. 

The fact that she was soaked wasn’t exactly a surprise, nor was his pleased growl when he felt her body’s response to him. 

Then her shirt was open, and John’s left hand was pulling at her nipples while his right hand was pumping furiously in and out of her sopping core...his lips attached to her pulse point so hard, she knew she’d have a bruise there the next morning. 

Buffy’s moans filled the car, as did the scent of her sex. She could feel John’s erection underneath her ass, trapped inside his jeans, but when she tried to reach back for him? John growled, ‘ ** _no_** ,’ only to speed up his hand until she was a writhing—begging mess. 

Then he started to talk...

“Fuck...so _good_. You smell divine.”

“Nuhpghh..” her strangled voice was needy, and he just chuckled at her incoherence.

“So wet for me? Has anyone ever made you this _desperate_ for it?”

“Nuuggh.”

His fingers twisted inside her, rubbing that spot while his palm pressed down hard against her clit...his hand now jackhammering against her, being aided by her own dripping juices that were literally soaking his jeans beneath her. When he pinched her nipple hard, she bowed up off of him as her orgasm broke over her entire body and her scream rent through his car, reverberating through them both. 

“Fuck, _yeah_...” he purred in satisfaction, and Buffy felt his own body shudder hard, signaling he’d come just from pleasuring her alone. “So beautiful...so perfect.”

“Oh my God!” She whispered out hoarsely, before collapsing back flush with him, her breathing erratic. “Did you just?”

“Yes.” She could feel him grinning against her neck. “I came in my jeans like a fucking fifteen-year-old. That’s what you do to me, Sweetness.”

Buffy broke down into girlish giggles, causing John to chuckle deeply in response. 

“I can’t believe we just did that.” She admitted, and he hummed out in agreement. 

“Another first?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He kissed her neck tenderly. “You’re going to have a rather large hickey right here.” 

His tongue laved the spot teasingly. 

“Badge of honor?”

“Something like that. Maybe more of a mark of possession?”

“Jerk.”

“Sure.”

He pulled up her panties, and jeans—helping her into the passenger seat and then grabbing his jacket from the back of the car and settling it over his lap. 

“Did we make a mess?” Buffy mocked. 

“Only the best kind.” 

He bantered back, starting his car and pulling out into the Gotham evening. 

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Guilty as charged, but you love it. Don’t deny it.”

“I can’t.” 

Buffy said quietly, and John glanced over, seeing the calm sincerity on her face. He reached for her hand and kissed the back of it, then holding it all the way to his apartment. 

The ride back to his place was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Every few minutes he make a show of licking his fingers that had been in her quim not even a few moments earlier, causing her to blush. His eyes then widened when she grabbed his right index finger and sucked it into her mouth...her eyes narrowing when she saw the outline of his dick twitching underneath his jacket. 

“ _Again_?”

His cocky grin was the fucking cutest thing, as he winked unapologetically at her. 

When he pulled into the private parking space of his garage, he turned to face her full on with a challenging look. Faith was right when she said John Daggett was a bad, bad man. He threw his jacket into the back seat and then unzipped his jeans, the wet patch making it a bit trickier to pull them down his hips, but then his erection sprang free and Buffy licked her lips in appreciation. 

Which turned into a squeaking sound when he started to stroke himself.

“Get _naked_ , sexy.”

He reclined his seat again, and Buffy didn’t protest as she did as demanded, and then took his hand, facing away from him again before he gripped her hips like a vice, and then parted her folds with one hand while the other holding his dick pushed himself up into her still soaked pussy. 

Buffy leant forward against the steering wheel and braced herself before pushing her lower half up and down on John’s cock. His hands were now spanning from her hips to her ass, and his thumbs were pulling her ass cheeks apart so he could watch the show, as they pressed into her skin unforgivingly.

“Ride me.”

“John...”

Buffy threw her head to the side and moaned out his name in a desperate whine. 

“Tell me how it feels, Sweetness?”

“So good!” 

Buffy gasped as he thrusted shallowly into her, causing her breath to stutter. 

He then pressed the edge of his thumbs on her back hole and applied just the right amount of pressure, which caused a throaty moan to break free. 

His answering depraved chuckle, motivated Buffy to speed up her pace. 

She then heard a click of something opening, and felt something cool and slick slide down the crack of her ass. 

“What?”

“Helps to be _prepared_.” He rumbled deeply. 

“Did you plan _this_?” 

She moaned on the last word, as a short, hard thrust caught her off guard. 

“A man can hope, can’t he?”

His thumbs continued to circle around her back hole, spreading what Buffy could only register as some kind of scented lube—   
  
His thumbs continued to press but never penetrate her, while she continued to ride his dick like a woman possessed—taking perverse satisfaction from the feral snarls and grunts that she could only hear from behind her. 

“That’s it, Sweetness. Are you going to come, soak me so good?”

“Yes!”

“Come for me...let me see and feel you gush all over me!”

Buffy detonated on command, as she always did when they were like this. She slammed down so hard, John actually yelled out, “ _Fucking hell_!” 

Her whole body convulsed over his, as he arched himself fully into her and lost his load. 

“Uuughhh...” 

“Shit, shit, _shit_...”

Buffy didn’t know how long her body seized, nor how long she’d screamed for...but _bloody hell!_

That had to be the strongest orgasm of her life so far. 

When she felt John’s arms moved up around her, cupping her breasts and pulling her back down on him more firmly as his hips kept stuttering up into her, Buffy purred out in blissful satisfaction. 

And the seat beneath them was completely ruined. 

“I hope you plan on cleaning this yourself?” She grinned impishly, which caused John to snort out a guffaw in amusement. 

“I believe that would be best.” He admitted with a happy sigh. “I’d rather not have anyone get a whiff of your delicious scent but me. I’m rather possessive that way.”

“Really?”

Her sarcastic tone, earned her a swift smack on the behind. Thankfully, John owned the building and the private elevator entrance that was mocking them both from four feet away. 

“Should we take this upstairs?” He parlayed, and Buffy nodded in acquiescence. 

“That would probably be wise. I’m fairly flexible, but even I have limits.”

“Have you ever tested them?” 

She glanced over her shoulder with a smirk, but managed to disengage herself from John’s dick long enough, to climb back into the passenger side, grab her clothes and saunter out of his car without a backwards glance. She heard his sexy laugh, and then his own door shutting when the elevator door opened, and she was lifted up into his body with a happy squeak.

Fucker was already half hard again. 

“You’re insatiable, you know that, right?”

“Are you complaining, Sweetness?”

“Not at all. I’m rather fond of your fabulous cock.”

His chest rumbled again, as his elevator door opened. When they got through it, Buffy’s eyes widened in horror as a young man was standing there, smiling widely at both of them. 

Her screech of embarrassment, had John noticing who was standing in his entry way causing him to immediately turn his body around, with Buffy now hidden from view. 

“ _Zac_ ,” He growled, “You need to go to your room and _wait_ there.”

“Sure, Uncle John. Nice ass, by the way.”

John groaned out in mortification, while Buffy just buried her head into his chest in humiliation. 

“Did you know he was going to be here?”

“No, Sweetness. I most certainly did not know that I would be walking into my apartment starkers, with my very sexy girlfriend draped over me completely nude, to an _audience_.”

Buffy snorted. 

“I’m going to your bedroom to take a shower.” She bit out. “You, are going to go apologize to your nephew.”

“Why should I have to apologize?” John groused out unhappily. “This is _my_ home!”

“Not just yours, apparently. Did he call or text you to let you know he was coming?”

John set her down and grabbed his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and sure enough, there was a text from Zac from about an hour ago. 

“Shit.”

“Exactly.” 

Buffy stuck her tongue out and sauntered down the hallway into his room. He followed her, allowing himself a quick shower before leaving her with a kiss, and going into his closet to get dressed. 

Ten minutes later he was knocking on Zac’s door. 

“Come on in.”

John peered around the cracked open doorway, and noticed Zac smirking at him. 

“Fucking, kid.” John huffed, walking into Zac’s room and sitting down on the ottoman by the window. 

“Should I apologize?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” John pointed his finger in warning, “you’re just lucky my girlfriend didn’t run out of here screaming.”

“Where is she?”

“Getting cleaned up.”

“What did you two do? Screw in your Porsche?”

“Maybe.”

“Huh. You’ve got yourself a keeper, Uncle John.” That comment had Daggett smiling slyly, and Zac’s eyes widened in shock. “ _Seriously_?”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn.” Zac shook his head in disbelief. His Uncle was the consummate bachelor, and always had been. This woman, whomever she was—must be something special to have his Uncle giving up his womanizing ways. “She’s _smoking_.”

John’s eyes narrowed, but his lips quirked up tellingly, “Get your mind out of the gutter, kiddo. That’s my girlfriend you’re objectifying.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Buffy.”

“Seriously?” 

“It’s not her given name, but she prefers it.”

“California girl?”

“Yes.”

“Should’ve known.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear, that she’s being _stereotyped_.” Buffy deadpanned, causing both John and Zac to whip their heads to the doorway, where Buffy was standing in one of John’s Harvard T-shirts that went down to just below mid thigh. 

“Nice outfit.”

“The color is atrocious, but oddly works for me.” Buffy winked, before she turned to Zac and said brightly, “I’m Buffy. Sorry about earlier.”

“I’m not.”

Buffy snorted out a surprised laugh, while John gave Zac the stink eye. 

“Why are you here, kiddo? I thought you were going to stay in California this summer.”

“You’re in school there?” Buffy queried.

“Yeah. Pepperdine.”

“Nice! Much better colors.”

Zac grinned and nodded, while John rolled his eyes. 

“What do you do, Buffy?” Zac asked, and Buffy looked to John for how best to answer, but he just shrugged like he was cool with whatever. 

Buffy cocked her head and said simply, “It’s complicated.”

“Oh? You’re not a spy, are you?”

“Not _exactly_.”

Zac grinned and leant forward, his eyes now alight with curiosity. 

“So spy-like?”

Shrugging, Buffy didn’t deny it. “I work for the IWC out of London.”

“I don’t know that organization.” Zac admitted. “Is it government?”

“Not exactly. We’re more...”

“Subversive.” John finished succinctly. 

“That works too.” Buffy smiled. 

Zac eyed his Uncle and his new girlfriend, with a slight frown. 

“Sounds ominous.”

“Yeah, it can get that way.”

“What kind of bad guys do you go after?”

Buffy bit her lower lip hard, while John just ran his hand along the back of his neck...unsure whether it would be a good idea to answer that question truthfully. 

However, Zac beat him to the punch. 

“You’ve always _promised_ to be honest with me, Uncle John.”

“I did.”

“Don’t blame him,” Buffy pleaded, “it’s really not his story to tell.”

“But he knows what you do?”

“Yep.”

“Must be pretty major, if he’s not willing to fess up.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” John murmured.

“Should I _go_?” Buffy asked coldly, causing John to wince apologetically.

“Definitely not. I just wasn’t prepared to have this conversation tonight.”

“Sucks to be you.” 

Buffy waved him off, turned around and flounced out of the room to the growled, “ _Shit_ ” of John echoing behind her. 

“We’re _not_ done here.” John promised Zac, before following Buffy back into his room, where she was putting her clothes back on. 

“Nope!” 

He picked her up and threw her on his bed, before pouncing on top of Buffy and tickling her...

...her peals of shocked laughter echoed throughout his home. 

“Stop it!”

“Nope.”

“John!”

“Shhh...you’re going to scare the kiddo.”

“Fuck you!”

“Okay!” 

He growled and ripped off her panties before shoving his head down and latching onto Buffy’s pussy with fervor. 

“Oh my God!”

“John, Sweetness...use my name...”

For the next ten minutes...the amount of times John’s name fell from Buffy’s sweet lips, spurred him on until she screamed it out hoarsely coming violently—

—her nectar filling his mouth as he drank it down eagerly...

“You’re a bad, _bad_ man...John Daggett.”

His wolfish grin was to be expected—what wasn’t, was him rolling her over and thrusting into her from behind. 

His body covered hers as he pounded into her mercilessly, and Buffy used the pillow to muffle her cries of pleasure, which didn’t help all that much. 

Neither did his shout of her name, when he let go and collapsed on top of her...his lower body jerking, as his release continued on for a couple minutes more. 

When they were spent, John whispered into her ear, “He needs to know the truth, but I’ll take your lead.”

Buffy sighed and then nodded into the pillow. 

“If you’re sure.”

“I _am_. I don’t want him to think I’m keeping secrets from him, and he’s going to have to get used to seeing you, since you’re not going anywhere.”

“Bossy, much?”

“Demanding is more like it, but you get the general idea.”

“Gods, you’re such a pain.”

“You enjoy it, sexy. Don’t lie.”

“Whatever.” 

Buffy huffed, disengaging herself from underneath John’s crushing weight, then rolling over on top of him. He grinned up at her with that smile that did so many interesting things to her...

When he started to twitch again, Buffy threw her head back and laughed outrageously. 

“You’re just the _worst_.”

“I think you meant to say the _best_...

“We can’t spend all night in here, fucking each other into a coma, John.”

“Logically, I’m sure you’re right, but theoretically? _**I’m all for it.”**_

Buffy snickered then said, “I’ll make you a deal?”

“What?” 

His expression was now skeptical. 

“Go and see if Zac’s had dinner yet, and if he hasn’t? I’ll fix something, and we can all sit down and I’ll tell him the truth.”

“What’s the _catch?”_

Buffy leant down and whispered deeply into his ear...

“You can get out that box of toys you bought for me, and I’ll let you choose tonight’s activity.”

Blue eyes brightened with interest. 

“Carte Blanche?”

Buffy sighed, but then nodded...wondering just what she was getting herself into when John licked his lips with relish and eyed her hungrily. 

“Oh, Sweetness...you might just regret that offer.”

“We’ll see.”  
  
She watched him get dressed again and leave, flopping back down onto the pillows with a small grin on her face. The man was a sex fiend, but goodness, he was talented. 

Rolling out of bed, she went back into the bathroom to do another quick clean up, and then pulled her panties, bra singlet and jeans back on, but added John’s T-shirt to her ensemble. When she got into the kitchen, both John and Zac were waiting. 

The kid was grinning like a loon, and normally Buffy would be mortified at being outed after such a fashion, but oddly, she didn’t seem to mind it. Maybe it was because she knew what Zac had been through, and maybe it was the way John watched her as she made cheese and mushroom omelettes...but this whole thing seemed kinda domestic. 

Oddly...

... _normal_...

Setting the offering down in front of Zac, he nodded his thanks and dug in. 

“Good?” 

John quipped and Zac nodded again, chewing his food with relish. 

“So, Zac?” Buffy went to sit down and snickered when John pulled her into his lap. “What are you majoring in at school?”

“Environmental Science.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It is.” 

He took a healthy sip of his water, before scarfing down another bite of omelette. 

“What do you want to do with it?”

“I want to work for the Environmental Protection Agency.”

“That impressive.” Buffy admitted, nudging John who smirked up at her. “What do you do for fun?”

“Create video game programs and take Krav Maga.”

Buffy’s eyebrows raised with interest. 

“That’s interesting, how did you learn?”

“Uncle John taught me until I left for college.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Buffy gave John and incredulous look and bit out sarcastically. 

“You didn’t tell me that, _honey_.”

“You never asked, _dear_.”

“Perhaps after Zac is done with his dinner, you could give me a demonstration?”

“That could be arranged.” 

Zac wolfed down his food in record time, and when the dishes were done, John led Buffy down one floor into a customized work out room. 

“This is nifty.” Buffy looked around, noticing the weight room, sauna, open dojo training area. She opened several cabinets, finally finding what she was looking for. “Nice!” Pulling out a set of weapons choices, she reached for a rattan bo and held the weight in her hands. “This will do.” Tossing one to John, Buffy walked over into the middle of the floor and waited for her boyfriend to join her. 

“Don’t get hurt, Uncle John.”

“ _Shut up, kid.”_

Buffy snorted and watched closely as John removed his T-shirt, leaving him in just his sweat pants. Grinning evilly, Buffy removed the Harvard T-shirt, leaving her in her jeans and her black singlet. 

“Rules?” 

She piped up, and John glowered but then shrugged. 

“No.” 

And then he attacked. 

Buffy grinned, bringing her weapon directly into his downward arch the same time her foot made contact with John’s midsection and he was launched back several feet. He grunted, and then smiled all teeth and blistering intensity—before he unleashed on her in full. 

Buffy had to admit, John Daggett was no slouch. His technique was surprisingly sharp and economical. He didn’t sacrifice style for a lot of unnecessary movements—he kept his center low, his posture forward and his footwork tight. Whereas she had to use a myriad of her skills to counter each one of his attacks effortlessly. She dodged, vaulted, kicked and cantered into and away from each attack. He tried to swipe her legs out from underneath her, but expecting that move, Buffy turned sharply and used her momentum to elbow John on his lower shoulder plexus while simultaneously crossing her opposite leg into his...which stopped his flow long enough that she was able to bring her rattan bow down and sweep under the back of his leg...

...knocking him down. 

He rolled out of her vicinity and kicked out, forcing her to retreat. He arched his back and kicked outwards, standing back up seamlessly, which caused Buffy to grin in appreciation. 

“Nice!”

“I get by.”

Buffy dropped the rattan bo and picked up a set of Kali sticks. She twirled them effortlessly and went back on the attack. 

This went on for a bit, until she disarmed John. Throwing down her weapons, she readjusted her fighting stance and prepared for hand to hand. 

For as good as he was with a weapon, this was where John Daggett shined. He was much better fighting hand to hand—and Buffy was even more impressed with his skills. 

But he was simply no match for her...

The first opening he gave her, she kicked him in the midsection again, and watched as he was launched across the room, crashing back into the wall with enough force to shake the foundation of the room a bit. Zac gasped, as his Uncle groaned, rolled over and tried to gasp for breath. 

Buffy however, cocked her head and said sweetly, “Are you _done_ yet?”

Darkened blue eyes considered her, before John shook his head—signaling he was good. 

“You pack quite the wallop.” 

He winced, rubbing his chest, as he stood up and stretched out his aching body, making sure everything was still in one piece. 

“You’re not half bad yourself, Mr. Daggett.”

“Glad you approve, Sweetness.”

Zac however, was clapping loudly. 

“That’s was fucking _awesome_!”

“Language, kiddo...”

“Whatever.” Zac pouted, but his eyes were filled with mirth as he considered his Uncle’s new paramour. “Why do I get the sense you were holding back?”

Buffy shrugged, but didn’t deny it while John just smirked and said, “Because she probably was. I’ve seen her fight, so I know how formidable she is.”

“Oh?” Zac grinned. “More than one bad guy?”

“I think there were four...but to John’s credit, he did dust the last one.”

“Dust?” Zac’s asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. 

Buffy sat down on the dojo mat, and patted the space in front of her. Zac came over and plopped himself down, while John moved behind her and curled around her, his chin on her left shoulder—but his eyes were fixated upon Zac. 

Once settled, Buffy spoke up. 

“Like I said before, I work for the IWC. The International Watcher’s Council. It’s important for you to understand Zac, that what I’m about to tell you? Can never be repeated. Normally, I wouldn’t be sharing this, but this one...” she nudged back into John’s embrace, and he kissed the side of her neck tenderly, “knows, and I won’t have him breaking any promises to you, got it?”

“Yeah, of course! I won’t say anything.”

“Cool. The IWC is tasked to fight a different kind of enemy.”

“What kind?”

“Vampires, demons and monsters.”

“ _What_?” 

Zac’s face paled, and his gaze whipped to his Uncle, but John was just watching him with that look Zac knew all too well. 

It was his _no bullshit expression_. 

_Fuck!_

“I’m sorry? But vampires are _real_?”

Buffy nodded. “Very much so. As are demons, and monsters. Because they are considered supernatural creatures, the forces that fight them also have supernatural powers.”

“That’s why you’re so strong?”

“Yes. I’m the Slayer. The Chosen One. The history of Slayers is a long one, but the cliff notes version is this—thousands of years ago, a group of men—called the Shadow Men—used the powers of a Shadow Demon and forged them with the first Slayer. Her name was Sineya. When she died, another Slayer was called, and this line of Slayers has followed for thousands of years. That was, until I was called.”

“What happened?”

Zac could see his Uncle pull Buffy more firmly into his lap, and she turned her head and kissed his nose, which caused him to sigh softly. 

And Zac knew in that moment that his Uncle had finally found his mate. 

**_He was in love._ **

“I died.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. In 1997, I died and was brought back. But when a Slayer dies, another is called and that’s what happened. In the thousands of years Slayers have walked the earth, there had never been more than one called at a time. Kendra was her name, and she was killed a year after she was called. Killed, by a vampire.”

“Was another called?”

“Yes. Her name is Faith Lehane.”

Zac’s mouth dropped open up in shock. 

“The Romanov Grand Duchess and Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend?”

“Yes.” Buffy snickered at Zac’s stupified expression. “But to be fair, she was a Slayer first.”

“Shit!” He huffed out, but his expression turned thoughtful, “That’s why the Russian Government didn’t go after her, huh?”

Buffy nodded, and then said to John, “He’s a smart kid.”

“He really is.” John offered proudly, causing Zac to blush.

“In 2001, I died a second time and was dead for six months, but since Faith was already activated and I had already died once? No other Slayer was called. At least not until 2003.”

“What happened in 2003?”

Buffy cocked her head and said lowly, “Living in California, I’m sure you’ve heard the story about the destruction of Sunnydale?”

Zac nodded, “Earthquake opened up a large sink hole, and the town was swallowed into it.”

“That’s the official story, yes.”

“And the unofficial one?”

“Sunnydale was directly over what we in the IWC call a Hell Mouth. A portal where evil resides. In 2002, a great evil tried to take over Sunnydale. It called itself the _First_ , and its army were a legion of vampire progenitors called Turok-han.”

“How many?”

“Thousands.”

“Shit!”

John nodded. “I’ve seen what a vampire looks like, kiddo. When Buffy fought them in London, and I had initially been surprised. But I think I would’ve panicked, had I not seen in her memory—what those First vampires looked like.”

“How did you see her memories?”

“That’s part of the story we will get to in a bit, okay?” Buffy offered, and Zac nodded reluctantly.

“Sure.”

“Faith came to Sunnydale to help me fight the First. You see, before a Slayer is called, and the powers are bestowed, she is just known as a _Potential_. One girl, who might one day receive the call in full, but doesn’t have the full powers.”

“How many Potentials are there?”

“Thousands.” Buffy said matter-of-factly. “About fifty made their way to Sunnydale, but many were killed trying to get there. They were killed by minions of the First, called Bringers. Eventually though, myself and Faith—along with my best friend Willow—who is a witch—were able to activate the powers of the Slayer and give the Potentials the choice to fight.”

“And you guys won?”

“We did. There were many losses though. If you stay here in Gotham, you might meet some of what me and Faith affectionately call, the Junior brigade.”

“That’d be cool.” Zac admitted. “How did you end up here, in Gotham? Is there a Hell Mouth here too?”

“No, we came to Gotham because one of the girls I fought with in Sunnydale, had gone missing. We tracked her to Gotham, and Faith rescued her. She was taken hostage by a man named Johnathan Crane and the Joker.”

“That sick creep who was killing people?”

“Yes.”

“He’s dead, right?”

“Yes. He went after Faith. He lost.”

Zac nodded thoughtfully, then asked, “The girl?”

“Violet?”

“Yeah, she’s okay?”

“She is. Crane and the Joker were experimenting on her with a drug that controls the mind, _scopolamine_. When we healed her with the Slayer powers, a vision of the moment they were all called was shown by the Powers that Be. In that vision, John saw what we faced that day when Sunnydale was destroyed. Thousands of Turok-han, down in the Hell Mouth.”

“Did you all make it out alive?”

“No, many died but of those that fought, Violet was one. She and Faith are particularly close, and it was Faith whom ultimately discovered _why_ Violet was taken.”

Zac looked to his Uncle, who’s expression was wary and Zac knew in that moment that somehow...this was all tied to his assault. 

“You _told_ her, didn’t you?”

John nodded. “Don’t be mad at me, kiddo. Violet was pretty fucked up after what they did to her, and she got very sick. Luckily she pulled through, and because of Buffy’s help—and a few other people including Faith and Bruce Wayne—I have the template for the antidote.”

“Really?”

“Really.” John replied sincerely, “There’s more, if you’re ready to hear it?”

“What more could there...” Zac’s eyes filled with reluctant tears, as he looked from Buffy to his Uncle and back again. “You found out who raped me, _didn’t you?”_

“Yes.” Buffy answered for the both of them. “Faith actually made the connection that your assault and Violet being taken was likely all part of a much larger plan. You see, the person who did this we think, wanted to create an army of Slayers. Violet was their test case. Thankfully, we discovered what was happening in time, and she’s okay—but the people behind this are going to _pay_ , Zac. I _promise_ you. Willow, Faith and myself went undercover into your old fraternity, and found out that Cooper Nelson was being blackmailed to help someone get to you.”

“And the person who raped me?”

John flinched and Buffy sighed. 

“Scott Brenton.”

Zac leant forward with his head in his hands, and Buffy felt John move over to his nephew, who broke down and started crying.

“It’s gonna be _okay_ , Zac. I am still trying to figure out how to go after these people, and Buffy’s been helping. We finally know who the person is who started this whole thing.”

“Who?”

John lifted up Zac’s face and kissed his forehead tenderly, and Buffy felt her heart explode in her chest at how utterly loving John was. 

“You have to know I want to tell you.”

“You _need_ to,” Buffy replied, “I’m assuming they’ve been introduced?”

John nodded. “Yes.”

“Are they still in contact?”

Looking down at Zac, John asked quietly, “Have you been in touch with Miranda lately?”

“Yeah. She called me last week. That’s why I came home actually. She invited me to attend the UN climate thing in a couple weeks as her guest.”

Buffy stood up and clenched her fists in fury, while John’s expression darkened. 

“Uncle John?”

“We need to get him _out_ of here.” John demanded. 

“What is going on?” Zac cried, and then the truth hit him and he shook his head in horror. “ _No_!”

“I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

“But why! **Why** would she do something so _evil_?”

“Because she _is_ evil, Zac.” Buffy said simply. “Evil doesn’t always have the face of a monster, sometimes? It’s the person sitting next to you. But your Uncle is right. We’re going to need to get you somewhere safe.”

Buffy left the room and came back a few moments later with her cell phone. She took a fortifying breath and made the call. 

He picked up on the second ring. 

“Buffy?”

“Where are you?”

“Rome. I’m heading back tomorrow for LA, why?”

“I need you to pick up a guest, take him back with you to LA and keep him protected.”

“Who?”

“Zac Daggett.”

There was a brief pause, and then Angel queried evenly, “I’m sure an explanation will be forthcoming at some point?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll be there by one in the afternoon.”

“See you then. And Angel?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

The phone line went dead, and Buffy sighed. When she lifted her gaze, she could see the emotions swirling behind John’s eyes. 

“Don’t look at me like that, John. I don’t know how much information was gathered from Violet while she was under that drug. If she gave up the IWC headquarters location, Zac might not be safe there. But Violet has no knowledge of anything related to Wolfram and Hart. No one but Angel and possibly Spike does.”

“Who’s this Angel?” 

Zac asked lowly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. John grimaced, stood up and went to grab a box of Kleenex, handing it over before resettling himself next to Zac. 

“He’s a vampire with a soul.”

“And Buffy’s ex.”

Zac gaped at Buffy, while she just rolled her eyes at John’s jealousy. 

“Are you _done_?” Buffy mocked with a sneer. “Is this going to happen anytime Angel’s name comes up? Cause I’ve got to tell you, John? If you’re going to act like a tool, I’m going to walk out that door and you can kiss my ass.”

Zac glanced over at his Uncle, who was watching the blonde woman standing over him with an expression that was both admiring, and irritated. 

“You wouldn’t get very far.” John warned and Buffy scoffed, but shook her head in exasperation. 

“That’s what you think.”

“Sweetness, I’m not going to argue this point with you, alright? I may not like the fact that your ex is a three hundred year old vampire that looks like fucking James Dean...but I’m not an idiot, either.”

“Could’ve fooled me, Uncle John.”

“Can it, kid!” 

John smirked at Zac, and then gripped him in a head lock—rubbing his knuckles on the kids head—giving him a case of the noogies.

Zac started laughing, and Buffy cracked a soft grin as she watched the clear affection between the two men. It made her heart swell and do that funny thing it always did when John did something sweetly unexpected. 

“Stop it!” Zac crowed out on a laugh. 

“You’re supposed to be on _my_ side.” John challenged playfully, but Zac just snorted out in disagreement. 

“Not when you’re acting like a _twit_ , I don’t.”

“What did you just say?” John growled out in faux anger. 

“Twit!” Zac pushed back, and John let him go. Both of them grinning from ear to ear. Then Zac smacked his Uncle on the arm playfully, standing up and saying seriously, “Don’t fuck this up, Uncle John. It’s clear you’ve got it bad.”

John just stared up at Zac with a lifted eyebrow, but didn’t reply as Zac walked out of the room backwards, with a shit-eating grin on his stupid face. 

Once he was gone, John’s attention fell back to Buffy, who had her arms folded over her chest in challenge. 

“Sorry, Sweetness.”

He held out his hand, and Buffy sighed, but took it—allowing herself to be pulled back into John’s lap. 

“It’s fine.” She said at last. “He’s a good kid.”

“He really is.” John admitted softly. “I adopted him back when his grandmother died. He was sixteen.”

Buffy glance over her shoulder at him in confusion. 

“I don’t understand.”

“He’s the kid of my best friend George, who was killed in Afghanistan. Before he died, he begged me to take care of his girlfriend Julia, and their son. I agreed, and then lost consciousness. When I woke up in the medivac hospital, and what came afterwards—I made a vow to honor my promise. Zac’s mom died when he was young. His grandmother soon after. I’m the only family he has left, and since I can’t have any kids of my own?”

“You adopted him and made him your Heir?”

“Yes.”

“That was a very wonderful thing to do.”

“He makes it easy.” 

Holding onto Buffy a bit more firmly against him, John felt the heaviness of everything that had happened to Zac settle on his heart. 

“What happened to him was all _my_ fault.” He whispered out pained. 

Buffy turned around and straddled him, cupping his face tenderly in her hands, even as she shook her head at him reprovingly.

“This is _not_ your fault, John Daggett! There is no way you could’ve known nor stopped this kind of evil. What Miranda did? What she unleashed? That’s on her and I promise you, John. She’s going to _pay_.”

He nodded and bowed his head submissively into Buffy’s chest—his body shaking with years worth of repressed emotions. 

“Let it _go_ ,” she pleaded, “I’m here to catch you if you need me to.”

Gripping her into him tightly, John finally allowed himself permission to let go and grieve for everything that had happened. The loss of his best friend, the loss of his own ability to carry on his family name, the loss of his parents, the loss of his innocence—the powerlessness behind what happened to Zac and how utterly devastated he’d been not only for Zac’s pain, but because he’d felt he’d let his best friend down. 

That he’d _broken_ his promise. 

Buffy held John to her bosom as he shuddered and finally, let it all go. She could hear his quiet sobs of emotional loss and when he finally lifted his head—Buffy’s breath hitched at the raw emotion in those bright blue eyes. 

“Don’t leave me.” He pleaded. “I _can’t_ lose you, too.”

“You _won’t_.” She promised. “I’m not going anywhere, John.”

They just sat there for a while, taking and giving comfort until John lifted her up into his arms, and headed back to his apartment. Zac had fallen asleep, and John led Buffy to his bedroom. 

“Rain check?” He asked softly, and she smiled and nodded. 

“Of course.”

The rest of the night, Buffy held John in her arms and silently vowed that she would make Miranda Tate pay.


	48. A Blast from the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old lover shows up unexpectedly.

The Diplomatic Pouch had arrived the next morning, the messenger the Consulate General from Washington D.C. The gentleman, Yevgeny Grimov, was about as old as Lucius but seemed to be a bit more serious than Ivan had been, when she’d first been introduced to him. 

“Your Grace.”

The man bowed over Faith’s hand, and she smiled politely and then offered him a seat and some tea. Alfred, had been trying to teach her some of the easier points of etiquette.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Grimov.”

The Russian nodded, his green eyes fixated on the young Billionaire American, who was ensconced firmly next to the Romanov Heiress with a piercing look on his face. 

Vladim had warned him of this Bruce Wayne...Gotham’s Dark Knight and right hand of Ra’s al Ghul at one time. He’d walked away from the League of Shadows, a dangerous proposition, and had killed his former mentor in what seemed a misguided quest to save a dying city. 

But now? He was the paramour of Nickolayevna, the _Ubiysta_...and a formidable force in her own right. The combined wealth of the two of them was staggering. If Vladim’s words were to be believed, even now—Nickolayevna was carrying an Heir. 

The Romanov’s _would_ rise again...

Perhaps not with the same power as before, but their people were already clamoring for their Nickolayevna to return home to where she belonged. Once word reached the ears of the Russian public that an Heir was imminent? 

Vlad would have to make some kind of concession if he wished to remain in power long term. 

There were many in the government that would see the old ways return. 

Himself included. 

“It is an honor to be here, Your Grace.”

“Is there any chance you might be okay with calling me, Faith? I don’t want to insult you, but this is my home and I’m happy to remain a little less...”

“Stuffy?” Yevgeny grinned. 

“That too.” Faith smiled in relief. “I’m sure as time goes by, I’ll figure out how to be more comfortable with the bowing and formalities? But for now? I prefer things a bit more chill.”

“Duly noted.”

“So, this is from Vlad?”

“It is?”

“Is it _rigged_ to explode when I open it?”

Yevgeny chuckled deeply, his eyes glittering with appreciation.

“Vladim did comment that you had a singular wit. He might’ve also mentioned that you referred to him as a _kaznakovi_?”

Bruce chuckled at that, causing Yevgeny to nod in commiseration.

“If the _shoe_ fits.”

Both men laughed together, while Faith just smiled genuinely. 

“No wonder he likes you.” Yevgeny said sincerely. “No one talks to him like that.”

“I can only imagine.” Faith grimaced. “But I can’t help but think he’s somewhat sincere, even if he’s using me for his own political gain.”

Shaking his head in wonder, Yevgeny was duly impressed with the young Romanov. 

“As long as you always remember with Vladim, that his first loyalty is to his office? I think you’ll be just fine.”

“You’re not a fan?”

“I’m a _realist_ , Nickolayevna. However, I’m also a servant to our country and to our people _first and foremost.”_

Faith cocked an eyebrow at that, and felt Bruce’s body shift next to hers. When she glanced over at him, she opened her mind and asked him, “ _Is he offering me his loyalty?”_

Bruce nodded his head very slightly, leaving Faith feeling a bit...

...flummoxed...

“I’ll admit, Yevgeny—I don’t know a whole lot about Russian politics. I’m sure you’ve been informed of what I’ve been up to since I turned sixteen?”

“I have, Nickolayevna. _Impressive_ , to be sure.”

“I tend to fight for the little guy.”

“An admirable quality, that many don’t share.”

“But you do?”

The man smirked and bowed his head in the affirmative. 

“Maybe you might be willing to help me with learning a bit more about recent Russian history? I’ll be visiting in November and it might help to have a tutor? Someone who can help me avoid potential mine fields and phonies. I’m not good with those kind of people.”

The man quirked up a small smile and said silkily, “I believe that’s a trait we share. My Father was part of the old politburo, hence how I found my way into politics.”

“What did you really want to be?”

Yevgeny’s expression morphed into surprise, but he replied sincerely, “I was a rather talented cellist and had wanted to parlay that into something more. But my Father wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Ah, he sounds like a real peach of a guy.”

“He was...what is that American slang term?”

“A hard ass?”

The Russian broke down into rich guffaws of laughter, his eyes bright with mirth as he nodded and said eventually, “I’m sure that works too.” His expression then became a bit more serious, “But my Father, for all of his strictness, loved Russia and only wanted to see it returned to its former glory.”

“And the people?”

“Since the fall of the old Soviet regime, the names have changed—but the ideological platitudes remain unchanged. It’s just wrapped into a different package.”

“Like a wolf, in sheep’s clothing?”

“European fairytale, yes?”

“Little Red Riding Hood.”

“Ah yes. I do believe I’ve read that one.” Yevgeny smirked. “Didn’t the wolf get killed in the end, by the Hunstman?”

“There are several versions of the story, in all but the earliest versions? The wolf gets his just reward in the end.”

“A cautionary tale, to be sure.” Yevgeny mused, as Alfred brought out the tea and served it for them. 

Faith thanked him and sipped on her ginger tea carefully. 

“I hope I don’t seek to offend you both, when I offer my heartfelt congratulations.”

“Vladim told you?” Bruce asked, and Yevgeny nodded. 

“He seemed rather pleased.”

“I’ll _bet_ he did.” Faith snarked. “But thank you. I’m still in the first trimester.”

“Ah, so no idea if you’re having a boy or a girl.”

Faith side-eyed Bruce and he shrugged. Yevgeny watched them closely, and when Nickolayevna turned back to him, she smiled impishly. 

“Normally, that’d be true—but Slayers have Prophetic dreams. So, we do know the sex of our baby.”

“Oh?” Yevgeny was stunned. “That’s unprecedented!”

“It is.” Faith admitted, taking another sip of her ginger tea, before setting the cup back into the saucer like Alfred showed her and said simply, “We are having a boy.”

Yevgeny swallowed heavily, his eyes misting unexpectedly, and he coughed out a small laugh of genuine joy. 

“That’s wonderful news.”

“I was shocked as hell.” Faith deadpanned, causing both Bruce and their guest to snort out matching chortles of amusement. “But,” Faith gripped her still flat stomach, and smiled lovingly when Bruce’s hand covered her own, “We are both thrilled. His name will be Damian Nicholas Thomas Wayne.”

Yevgeny set down his cup and saucer, his hands shaking with raw emotion. 

“You’ve already named him your Heir?”

“Yes.” Faith admitted. “I have no reason to doubt the vision the Powers gave to me. I’ve seen enough to know he will grow strong and fierce. I will teach him to be a _warrior_.”

“As will I.” 

Bruce Wayne’s voice was tinged with cold warning, and Yevgeny nodded in solemn understanding. 

“A Romanov Heir.” Yevgeny whispered in wonder, his green eyes alight with the possibilities of what this could mean for his homeland.

“You say that like there are those who wish for...”

“Say no more, Nickolayevna.” Yevgeny warned. “At least not _yet_.”

Faith nodded. “I understand. Thank you for coming here today.”

“Of course. It was my great honor. I suppose for myself, the thought of this day coming was a long path, indeed.”

“Well, I hope it was a good surprise.”

Yevgeny smiled and nodded solemnly. 

“It was truly a miracle.”

“Is there a number I can keep in contact with you?” Faith inquired and Yevgeny handed over a card from his suit pocket. 

“My direct number is the one on the bottom left. However, if you require a more personal touch, I would recommend something a bit more discreet.”

“I can work something up” Bruce said succinctly, “I’m sure it would be preferable?”

Yevgeny nodded. “Well, I won’t take up too much of your time today. I do have to get ready for the UN climate accords.”

“You’ll be attending?” 

“Yes, I make a point to show my face each year.”

“We will be there as well,” Faith offered kindly, “maybe we can have dinner?”

Yevgeny cocked his head curiously. “Did you have something specific in mind, Nickolayevna?”

“How’s the _medovik_ in New York?”

“Ah, there is a place that has a singular recipe, I think you’d enjoy immensely.”

“Good. Perhaps you might be open to hosting a little get together for me?”

Yevgeny smirked. “And just whom might I be extending the invites to?”

“I will trust your judgment on this, however—I would only ask that two names be added to that list.”

“And that would be?”

“Angelina Jolie and Miranda Tate.”

Yevgeny’s expression darkened. “I’m not going to ask if you’re aware of Miss Tate’s true affiliations?”

“I’m _perfectly_ aware. She tried to take something _precious_ to me and use it for her own personal gain. I found this kinda rude and _disrespectful_.”

“Say no more. I will make sure the overtures are sent out accordingly. Vladim might question it however.”

“He knows I’m going to make a move sooner or later. If he has a problem, just tell him I asked you to do this as a personal favor.” 

“Of course.” Yevgeny nodded in understanding. 

Bruce stood up with Faith, to escort their guest out. Yevgeny bowed over Faith’s proffered hand with relish. 

“I am honored to be included in your circle, Nickolayevna.”

“I am honored to have you, Yevgeny. I look forward to seeing you in a couple weeks.”

They said their goodbyes and when Yevgeny was gone, Faith went over and tore open the diplomatic pouch. 

Pulling out the contents—there wasn’t much, but the one thing she noted was the pictures on the top of the small pile. 

She stared down at the recent photo of Miranda Tate, in Paris. On the slip of paper behind the photo was a listing of the woman’s addresses in Paris, London and New York. There was an accounting of what Faith could only imagine was her financial holdings. She handed that to Bruce and then flipped through the paperwork until a singular photo came into view and she hissed. 

Bruce glanced over her shoulder, his eyes widening at the image. 

“Bane?”

Faith bit her lip and nodded. “I’m thinking so too.”

The photo was grainy and the image was difficult to make out...or it would’ve been normally had the subject not looked like some kind of freakish monster on steroids. 

“What do you think that face thing is?”

“I don’t know.” Bruce took the photo to get a closer look. “I’m going to take this down to Lucius and see if he can clear up the image. The background looks industrial, but probably not Gotham.”

Faith pulled out one last photo and handed in to Bruce. 

“That’s Leonid Pavel. I’m fairly certain of it.”

“Do you want Lucius to investigate this, or should I task Willow?”

“I’ll have Lucius work on the photo, but I’d have Willow do the initial research. Probably safer that way.”

Opening her mind, Faith called out for Willow—who after a moment—opened a portal and walked into Bruce’s living room. 

“You rang?”

“Bad time?”

“No.” Willow sat down and took the paperwork Faith was holding out for her. “Miranda Tate?”

“Yep.”

Bruce showed Willow the picture of Bane, and she scrunched her face in disgust. 

“Bane, I take it?”

“Yep.”

“Is there a secure place for me to research this here, or do I need to take it back with me to Gotham Terrace?”

“Actually, I have a secure server down at the Wayne Docks. I’ll take you there and you can do your research. How long do you think it’ll take you to cross-reference all this?”

“Probably most of the day.”

“Then I’ll keep you company.” Bruce turned to Faith and gave her a kiss on the lips. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Sure. Stay safe.”

“Always.”

Faith watched them leave with a sigh. Whistling for Baba and Yaga she decided to take them to the dog atrium. When she got down there her phone rang. 

It was Buffy. 

“Hey, B? What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know Zac Daggett came into Gotham last night. Our target called him and John thinks he might be in danger. We are taking him to the Palisades Airport where Angel will be picking him up and taking him back to his place.”

“Did you tell him everything?”

“Yes. John’s talking with him now. He’s keeping Zac’s cell phone and Angel is bringing a burner phone for Zac to use for now. Did you get the stuff?”

“Yeah. Willow is on research duty and she just left with Bruce. I got confirmation of the possible super soldier...”

“And?”

“How bad was that Adam dude?”

“Bad.”

“And how did you defeat him?”

“Enjoining spell.”

“Huh. We might need to keep that option open.”

“Great.” Buffy scoffed out in disgust. “Just what the world needs...another freaky cyborg monster _thingy_.”

“That about sums it up.” Faith snickered before her voice grew serious. “If we have to go that route?”

“Which one you want?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“I’m thinking we need to let Vi get one back. She’s never going to be the same if she doesn’t, and we both know she can’t go back into the field alone until she’s put this behind her.”

“Faith...”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not, that’s why I’m not going to argue with you. But we need to leave it up to her.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Five by five.”

Faith hung up the phone and sighed. As much as she didn’t want to put this on Violet, she knew the kid well enough to know that once she was left on her own, the doubts would creep in until a vamp took her out. 

_That wasn’t a reality, she could live with._

As for Miranda?

Faith’s face morphed into a menacing scowl. 

“ _That bitch is going down.”_

It was several hours later that Faith got a visit from Lucius. 

“Hey, Lucius. I thought Bruce would be with you?”

“He’s with Miss Willow. Karl messengered these over for you to sign.”

“What am I looking at?”

“The top documents with the pink arrows attached are the amendments to the trust account you set up.”

Faith scanned the paperwork, reading each other the addendums carefully before signing on the dotted line. 

“The second stack is the paperwork you emailed me about last night. I took the liberty of contacting the head of the Romanov foundation, and they were only too happy to send over the names of those remaining within the family. As you can see, there are currently about a dozen members that are descended from your Great-Great Grandfather’s sisters, who escaped the revolution.”

“This is including those within the current European royal families?”

“Yes, there are various cousins who live here in the States as well.”

“And the Head of the Foundation?”

“Her number is listed on the inside of the folder. She currently resides in Britain, and is a member of the Aristocracy there.”

“Lovely.” Lucius shook his head at the not-so-veiled sarcasm. “Tell me about the Foundation? Do they do good work?”

“Some, although there’s been quite of bit of discord within the family ranks for years. Two factions really, believing that each had the better claim.”

“If that was the case, they’d have inherited the Romanov fortune, correct?”

“That is correct.”

“Huh, whatever.” Faith grabbed the card with the name on it and said seriously, “What’s her deal?”

“Lady Natalia Grovers is the Granddaughter of the Grand Duchess Xenia.”

“Eric might’ve mentioned that name, come to think of it.”

“I would imagine he did. He wanted for me to let you know that Roger Wyndham-Pryce will be here day after tomorrow for the meeting that Mr. Giles wanted set up on your behalf.”

“Great.”

Faith read through a bit more of the paperwork that Lucius had brought, and sighed heavily. 

“I’d like to set up my own Foundation, but before I do that? I need to speak with this Natalia. Can you have Eric call her and set up a time in the next few days for us to talk?”

“I will do that.”

Faith finished the paperwork and handed it back to Lucius with a quiet, “Thanks, Lucius.”

“Of course, Miss Lehane.”

As Lucius went to stand, Faith gave him the once over and then said playfully, “How’s the cure for the morning sickness coming along?”

Lucius grinned and said simply, “I’m afraid I don’t have quite the time I’d need in perfecting something before you deliver this pregnancy, Miss Lehane.”

“ _This_ pregnancy?”

Lucius shrugged. “I would like to hope that perhaps, in time? You and Mr. Wayne might see fit to give your little one a sibling.”

Faith threw back her head and groaned in dismay. 

“ _Lucius_!”

“I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped.”

“No...don’t be ridiculous! If anyone is allowed to overstep, it’s you and Alfred. Bruce doesn’t have any secrets from either of you, and I don’t suppose I do either.”

“For what it’s worth, Miss Lehane? Mr. Wayne was rather despondent when he’d realized how close he came to losing the both of you. He’s always been very closed off and singularly focused on his mission.”

“I know. It’s oddly, one of the things I love most about him.”

“If I might be so bold?”

“Sure.”

“You coming into his life? Was the _very best thing_ that could’ve ever happened to him. If his parents were alive today? They’d be thrilled with his choice in you.”

“Because of my royal background, or because of being a Slayer?”

“Neither. I think it would be because you love their son for who he is and don’t judge him for his mistakes.”

Faith quirked a pleased grin and nodded in understanding. 

“My babushka would’ve hated Bruce initially because he wasn’t Russian, but I’d like to think in time? She would’ve warmed up to him.”

“And your Mother?”

“She was pretty accepting and wanted to see the best of most people, which didn’t work out so well for her in the end.”

“I do apologize if I’ve upset you.”

“It’s fine, Lucius. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss my mom and grandma, but I know that they’re at peace and I suppose that’s what’s important.” Faith fiddled with her shirt for a moment, before asking hesitantly, “Can I ask your opinion about something, and will you promise to give me an honest answer?”

“Of course.”

“Is Bruce the kind of person to do something out of obligation? Because it would be _expected_ of him?”

Lucius frowned as he considered the question. 

“Is this in relation to anything specific?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, perhaps he brought up the subject of marriage?”

Faith paled noticeably, as her mouth dropped open in shock. 

“How’d you guess?”

“Because Mr. Wayne isn’t the kind of man to do anything, unless he wanted to.” Lucius admitted with a reassuring smile. “He did share something with me that might seek to put your mind at ease?”

“Which was?”

“That he didn’t realize how much he’d wished for the Wayne name to live beyond him, until you told him you were pregnant with a son. I know he felt a tremendous amount of guilt for how poorly he took the news initially. All Mr. Wayne wants is to be as good of a Father, as his own was for him. Thomas Wayne was an exceptional man. As a medical doctor, his first mission was to help others. I knew him quite well, and helped him build the train that ran through Gotham until it was badly damaged two years ago. He wanted the people of Gotham to have a cheaper, safer way around the city. His Father, as proud as he was of Thomas following his passion in medicine, was disappointed that he didn’t choose to follow in the family business.”

“Is that why Bruce leaves so much of it to you?”

“He’s actually more involved than he likes to let on.” Lucius admitted sincerely. “He’s got a great mind for solving problems, but his focus for the past two plus years, has been on saving Gotham. Now, he has a new focus.”

“I just don’t want him to ever think that he needs to feel obligated to me or our child.”

“He won’t _ever_ see it that way, Miss Lehane. Mr. Wayne takes his responsibilities seriously, but that being said? He’s passionate about the things he truly cares about, and even though I’ve not known him personally very long? I do know him better than most, and I honestly wasn’t sure he’d ever find someone strong enough to brave the darkness with him.”

“I enjoy a good fight.”

Lucius chuckled and nodded. 

“I should take my leave. I will let Eric know what we’ve discussed.”

“Thanks, Lucius.”

“You’re very welcome, Miss Lehane.”

Faith watched Lucius leave, feeling a bit more lighthearted and reassured that perhaps Bruce’s bringing up the topic of marriage wasn’t entirely because he felt compelled to make the overture. It was difficult for Faith to admit that there was a part of her that even now, wondered if Bruce would change his mind about wanting her and their baby. It wasn’t based on anything rational, but her hormones weren’t really allowing her to use logic—when all she kept feeling were her emotions running on overdrive.

She _loved_ Bruce. 

That had taken her by surprise when she’d realized just how much she was in love with him. The ways in which he made her feel, was like a light switch had been turned on inside of her and she couldn’t get enough of him. 

She’d always thought sex was a means to an end. A way to get some back and enjoy the control of the game, but with Bruce? 

It wasn’t about that _at all..._

 _She loved fucking him._

It didn’t matter how they went about it. He still very much enjoyed allowing her to take the reins and control the ride—but it had become more about pushing his limits and getting off on how much he was getting off on it. 

Last night she’d woken him up in the middle of the night because she’d been horny as fuck. She hadn’t even had to ask...he’d sensed what she’d needed and had made her come so hard—she’d literally sobbed out in relief. 

Then he’d fucked her two more times, just because he _could_. 

They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, words of love spoken tenderly between them. She had felt her heart literally bursting within her chest at the reality and truth of the moment. 

She was so _gone_...

Shaking her head, Faith grabbed the dogs and headed back down to her apartment. When she got there, she let Baba and Yaga run around while she sat in front of the large window and stared out over the Gotham skyline. This was her life now. For better or worse, she and Bruce were having a baby. 

She was going to be a mom in seven months time...give or take. 

Gripping onto her stomach, she couldn’t help but think back to Lucius comment. Would Bruce eventually want to have more children? Would he be happy with just the one? Was it unfair to even entertain the idea? Did she want to get married someday? Would she be any good at it? 

The truth was the idea didn’t fill her with fear at all. She was rather intrigued with the thought of having more children with Bruce someday.

“Shit.”

Running her hands through her hair, Faith had to wonder if she was in denial. 

Maybe denial wasn’t the right word?

But fuck if she knew what the right word was...

Suddenly there was a knock at her door, startling her out of her self-imposed funk...

Scrunching her face in confusion, she wasn’t expecting anyone? Moving over to the door, she whistled for Baba and Yaga and motioned them to flank either side of her and then glanced through the peephole, her breath catching on the person standing there. 

_What the fuck, was he doing here?_

Opening the door slowly, Faith glared at the person on the other side—who smiled awkwardly at her. 

“Mind explaining to me why and how you got up here, Robin?” 

“It’s good to see you too, Faith.” Robin Wood drawled in his deep voice. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Inviting the fucker inside her apartment wouldn’t have been her first, second or third choice—Faith thought darkly. 

First choice, would likely be smashing his face in. 

Second? 

Letting her dogs have a go...

...and third would definitely involve a rack, whips and chains...

“No.” She said firmly. “I didn’t invite you here, and I sure as fuck don’t want you here...which doesn’t explain _why_ you’re here?”

“I’m interviewing tomorrow for a job as an Administrator in Gotham’s School District.”

“Okay? That explains why you’re in Gotham, but not why you’re standing at my front door?”

“Are you going to let me in?”

“No.” In that instant Baba and Yaga moved into view and Robin’s eyes widened comically. “Not unless you think you can get past my dogs.”

“Since when do you have dogs?”

“That’s not any of your business, and I would consider it good if you would bail again, and leave me be. We have _nothing_ to say to each other.”

“That’s harsh, Faith.”

“What’s so harsh about it, asshole? The part where you _cheated_ , or the part where you _lied?_ Or maybe it was the part where you told me I was too emotionally damaged and needed to open up more? _No wait?_ I think, it was the part where you told me that I wasn’t what you needed.” Faith snapped her fingers and then wiggled them in his face. “ _ **That’s got to be the one!”**_

“I was an _idiot_.”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Faith deadpanned, “Still not interested in doing this with you. It’s been over two years, dipshit. In case you haven’t figured it out yet? I’ve moved on. Quite nicely too.”

“Bruce Wayne?” Robin growled out in disgust. “I didn’t think you were into poncey rich boys, Faith? That’s never been your style.”

“Bruce Wayne is not a ponce, and I swear to God if you open your mouth and say one more insulting thing about him? I’m going to let my dogs have a go! If he were here right now? He’d be escorting you out of his building, himself.”

“Right.”

Faith snorted in disgust and went to close the door, but Robin smacked his hand against it to stop her from closing it, and both dogs snarled in anger—but it was the cold, _deadly_ voice of her boyfriend that had Faith’s eyes widening in shock. 

“Remove your _fucking_ hand, before I break it in two.”

Faith peered around the door jamb, and grinned at the furious glower on Bruce’s handsome face. He might be slightly shorter and a bit less muscular than Robin, but Faith had no doubt that Bruce could wipe the floor with Wood if he so chose to. 

“Hi, _honey_!”

Bruce smirked and said endearingly, “Hello, _Gorgeous_. Who is _this?”_

“An _uninvited_ guest. I don’t know who let him up here, but he needs to _go_.”

“Faith...” Robin growled deeply, “You’re making a mistake. I just want to talk is all.”

“Sure. Was that before or after you insulted my boyfriend?”

“Ah, you must be the Mr. Wood, I’ve heard about.” Bruce sneered. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re in _my_ building, at the door of _my_ girlfriend, does it?”

“I came here to talk to Faith, not that it’s any of your concern.”

“ _Everything_ to do with Faith is _my_ concern, Mr. Wood. In fact, I could call the Gotham PD and have you arrested for trespassing.”

“Please do.” Faith quipped. “Maybe while you’re at it, Krasivyy? You could see about making sure the job he just interviewed for, turns him down. I think he needs to go back to whatever hidey-hole he managed to crawl himself out from under.”

“Damn it, Faith!” Robin snarled angrily. “I’m here to _help_.”

“Help with what?”

Robin pulled out a letter from his jacket and tried to hand it to her, but she shook her head. Bruce however, had no such compunction as he ripped the letter from Wood’s hand and read it.

“When did you get this?”

“One week ago.” Robin replied with ire. 

“What is it?” Faith asked, and Bruce walked over and handed her the letter. She read it quickly, her eyes widening at first in shock—then in fury. 

“How did this reporter just happen to find you, Wood?”

“I have no fucking clue,” he admitted caustically, “can I come in to discuss this, please?”

Faith glanced at Bruce, who nodded once so she opened her door and waved Robin in. Bruce followed, pulling her into his side and moving her over towards the couch, where Robin was standing—looking around. 

“ _Sit_.” Faith gritted, and then huffed when Baba and Yaga—who’d had also meandered over, obeyed quickly...

...as had Robin and Bruce. 

Robin glared at Wayne, who was now sitting back in his faux relaxed stance on the couch, staring the other man down with Faith firmly now wrapped into his side. 

“ _Explain_.” Faith demanded. 

“I received this request a week ago. Somehow, _and don’t ask me how.._.but he found me. He wants an interview.”

“I’ll fucking bet he does.” Faith looked down at the paper and then said, “Oscar Smith? The name looks familiar.”

“Same guy who tried to break into the hospital to access your medical records.”

“Didn’t you get him fired?”

“I did, Gorgeous—which doesn’t explain why he’s still sniffing around.”

Robin took in the relaxed demeanor of his ex-girlfriend and her new beau, and he was surprised to see how at ease they were with each other. 

“Was this after you’d been kidnapped by the Joker?” Robin asked, and Faith nodded. 

“The Joker’s given name was Jack Napier.”

Bruce watched Robin Wood closely, and when the man didn’t react to the name at all, he realized that Faith hadn’t been lying when she’d stated that she’d never trusted the fucker completely—at least, not enough to share who Jack Napier was to her, and what he’d done back at the orphanage.

“Just how much does Wayne here know about you?” Robin queried. 

“Everything.” Faith bit back, and took perverse satisfaction at Wood’s look of incredulity. 

“Excuse me? _Everything?”_

“Yes, Wood. I don’t keep secrets from my boyfriend.”

“You did from me.” 

Robin accused, and Faith felt Bruce stiffen slightly against her. 

“Actually dipshit, that was you who kept secrets from me. Don’t try and turn your lying and cheating around on me.”

“You went to LA and didn’t even tell me why you’d left. Only that Angel needed you.”

“He did! And news flash! When the call came in that Angel needed me, where were you again? Oh, that’s right! Off at some teaching conference with the woman you ended up screwing behind my back! So tell me, Robin? Did you cheat on me before or after I went to LA?”

“Faith...”

“Actually, it doesn’t matter. Your selective memory was always one of the things that annoyed me the most about you. But just a word of advice, Wood? If you even think about betraying me? I’ll let Angel and Spike deal with you.”

“And take all my fun away, Gorgeous?”

Faith glanced up at Bruce, and he was now smirking down at her. She opened her mind and asked him simply, “ _Would you enjoy it?”_

“Immensely.” 

He purred back with a saucy wink, which caused her to giggle at how utterly devious Bruce appeared in that moment. 

“Look,” Robin began, “I only came here to warn you, nothing more. This guy is poking into your past, Faith. Maybe it’s just for an exclusive, but maybe not.”

“He might have a point, Gorgeous—as loathe as I am to admit it.”

“Do you think?”

“It’s possible.”

Faith bit her lip, her expression darkening ominously, before her brown eyes settled back on Robin. 

“You _owe_ me.” She stated unequivocally. 

Robin sighed, but nodded once in acceptance. 

“You want me to set up a meet with this guy.” 

He didn’t even phrase it as a question, which let Bruce know that for all their past drama, at one point they’d probably worked well enough together that Robin Wood had learned a thing or two not only about how Faith thought, but how she would react. 

“Yes.”

“I can do that.”

Faith averted her gaze, not liking the way that Robin was staring at her. She then gazed back up at Bruce and he sighed, but nodded in understanding.

“I will be helping you, Mr. Wood.”

“And just how can you help me, Wayne.”

“I have a powerful friend who suits up for stuff just like this.”

Robin’s expression gave way to confusion, but Faith wasn’t surprised when his eyes flitted towards hers—and as he took in her challenging posture—his face fell into gobsmacked comprehension. 

“You’re _him_?” 

Dark eyes drifted back to Wayne, with a look akin to disbelief. 

Bruce’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t confirm nor deny Wood’s supposition, all he said was, “I’ll need a number where I can reach you.”

Nodding reluctantly, Robin handed over his contact information. 

“I’ll be in Gotham for a few more days.”

“The job position?” Faith demanded.

“Yes, but it’s a ruse. I had to find a way here that didn’t look like I was coming in directly to see you. It would’ve looked too suspicious, in case anyone was watching.”

“Clever.” Bruce replied straight-faced. “Where are you staying at?”

“Gotham Excelsior Hotel.”

“Not too far from here.”

“No.”

“How did you manage to get up here without security noticing you, Mr. Wood?”

The other man smirked right back. 

“I may not be a masked vigilante, Wayne—but I do know a thing or two about getting in and out of places undetected.”

“Excellent! Then perhaps you can leave the exact same way you came.”

Robin’s expression pinched unattractively, but he stood up and readjusted his blazer. His dark eyes settled on Faith, and for a split second—Bruce could see both longing and regret there. 

He masked it fairly quickly, however. 

He then nodded politely to Faith and was about to leave, when Bruce’s Batman voice stopped him cold.

“Whilst I appreciate the sentiment that brought you here, Mr. Wood? Know this? If you ever enter my home again, without mine or Faith’s express invitation? You’ll find out just how formidable of a masked vigilante I can be. Are we clear?”

Robin turned around and eyed the billionaire, who radiated menace like a living, breathing essence. 

“Crystal.”

“Excellent.” Bruce purred. “Good day, Mr. Wood. I’ll look forward from hearing from you, soon.”

Not bothering to reply, Robin showed himself out. When he was gone, Faith quickly straddled Bruce’s lap with a mischievous grin on her lovely face. 

“Damn, Krasivyy! I never knew I could be so turned on by someone’s dominant side.” 

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Faith ran her hands with purpose through Bruce’s thick locks and offered seductively, “Shibari?”

Bruce grinned, his eyes now alight with lust. 

“Yes?”

“I think I’d really like to try it with you.”

Faith gasped when Bruce grabbed the back of her head swiftly, and brought her mouth down towards his. He didn’t kiss her though, but their lips were nearly touching and his dick was twitching under her, as he growled out questioningly, “How have you _seen_ it?”

“Buffy showed me a video.”

“And?”

“I want you to do that to me.”

“Fuck, Gorgeous...” Bruce clamped her mouth passionately onto his, and the next thing Faith knew, she was in her bedroom and Bruce was tearing off her clothes. “We are so going to do that, but _not yet.._.” he promised, “right now? I’m going to remind you just whom you belong to.”

“Yesss... _please_...”

For the rest of the day and well into the night—Bruce did just that—many, many... _many_ times.


	49. The Truth Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the course of helping Faith, Robin learns the truth of her past.

Bruce had received a call from Robin Wood the following evening. He was to meet the reporter later that next night at eleven pm inside Oswald’s club. Apparently, the man was a bit smarter and less trusting of people, and wanted to meet in a crowded place. 

Buffy had offered to go undercover, but Faith wasn’t keen on being left out of the fun. Bruce had been adamant that there was no way to disguise Faith well enough that she wouldn’t be spotted and selfishly, he didn’t want to take a chance of her being put in harms way either. 

So that left Buffy—with Willow and Kennedy as back-up. Willow would be placing the magical tracker and Bruce would be there hiding in the rafters, and would then follow the reporter back to wherever he was hiding out. 

It was about ten minutes to eleven when Buffy arrived. Kennedy and Willow had already been inside for about an hour, scoping out the dance floor, as well as the private booths. Robin had come in around ten-thirty, ordered a drink and found himself in the back corner booth where he was to meet his contact. 

Robin had taken the seat facing away from the entrance, as he didn’t want to make it seem like he was too eager, or paranoid meeting this guy—so he didn’t immediately notice Buffy sitting in the booth behind him. 

At exactly eleven pm, a man slid into the booth across from Robin. He was about six feet tall, dirty blonde hair, glasses, and dressed in jeans, polo shirt and leather jacket. 

“Mr. Wood?”

“Yes, you must be Mr. Smith?”

“Yep, that’s me.” The reporter chuckled. “I see you’ve been here for a while?” Gesturing to Wood’s drink. 

“I’ve never been to Gotham before. Nice enough place, I suppose.”

“What brings you here?”

“I just had an interview today for an Admin job with the school district.” Robin replied politely, taking a sip of his gin and tonic. “Can I get you anything?”

“Sure. Whisky, neat.”

Robin turned around and waved down the waitress, who was Willow in disguise. 

“What can I get you?”

“Whiskey, neat for the gentleman, and I’ll have another gin and tonic with lime.”

“Sure thing.”

Robin watched Willow leave, and faced the reporter again. 

“So? I’m curious? How _did_ you find me?”

“I have my sources.”

“Well, if you’re going to hope for anything from me, I’m going to need a bit more information, Mr. Smith. It wasn’t exactly common knowledge that me and Faith were seeing each other.”

“No, there’s not much information on Miss Lehane at all before she came to Gotham. No work history, no rental history, no school records after tenth grade.”

“Faith took her GED in Cleveland. I helped her study for it.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Robin sat back and placed both hands on the table as he glared at the reporter. “So again, if you want something from me? You’re going to have to tell me who gave you my name.”

“Fine, not like it matters anyway. His name was Jack Napier.”

“Was?” 

Robin didn’t react, but he knew from his conversation with Faith and Wayne that Jack Napier was the Joker. 

“He died recently, but not before he gave me quite a bit of interesting information on Miss Lehane. Unfortunately, he wasn’t exactly a trustworthy source.”

“And you’re looking for confirmation?”

“Yes.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re not being completely honest with me?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Look, Mr. Smith? I don’t need some wack job coming after me, and I sure as hell don’t need Bruce Wayne breathing down my neck. Nor do I relish the idea of being sued as a source for whatever your endgame is here. So, is this some kind of hatchet job? Or is there a larger game at play?”

“Why do you care, Mr. Wood?”

“I just told you why.” 

Their conversation stalled when Willow came back with the drinks. 

She set them down and then said, “That’ll be seventeen dollars.”

Wood went to take out his wallet, but Oscar beat him to the punch and handed Willow a twenty. 

“Keep the change, sweetheart.”

“Thanks.”

Robin smirked at Willow’s less than enthused comment, and she disappeared. 

“So where were we?” Oscar said smugly, taking a sip of his drink. 

“You were about to reassure me that this wasn’t going to fall back on me if I help you with your story.”

“Look, Mr. Wood? I have quite a bit of info on Faith Lehane. Some really juicy stuff, but I need independent corroboration.”

“Why don’t you ask me what you want to know, and I’ll tell you if I know anything.”

“Fair enough.” Oscar grinned. “What can you tell me about Miss Lehane’s time in Sunnydale?”

Robin sat back with a shake of his head. 

“Can you be more _specific_?”

“I have it on good authority, that Miss Lehane killed the Deputy Mayor of Sunnydale back in 1999.”

Robin chuckled, and shook his head in disgust. 

“That’s simply not true.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because Faith was in a _coma_ that year.”

“ _What?”_

“Yes. She’d been attacked, stabbed, and fell out of a three story window.”

“She told you this?”

“Yes, but it was also independently corroborated by several witnesses who were there at the time. Seems someone gave you some bad information, Mr. Smith. Anything else?”

Now Oscar seemed a bit unsure, but not one to be deterred he forged ahead. 

“There were reports that Miss Lehane was in prison for a time?”

Robin sighed and ran his hand down his face in faux exasperation. 

“That’s another _lie_. Besides, if it was true? Don’t you think there’d be a record of it? I’m assuming you went searching, correct?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Like I said, Mr. Wood. Miss Lehane’s past is rather spotty at best. It’s almost like someone went to great lengths to erase her past.”

“Okay, say that you’re right? What for? Why? How in the world would a woman who came from nothing and had no resources of her own prior to two months ago, manage to...erase her past?”

“Look, all I know is what I’ve been told.”

“By this Jack Napier.”

“He’s not my only source.”

“No?” Robin leant forward. “Then please tell me who is, because whomever this individual is? They’ve given you some really poor information. It almost sounds like someone with an ax to grind. I mean, come on? Faith discovers she’s the heir to the Romanov fortune, and now these rumors come up? Doesn’t that seem _suspect_ to you? Maybe someone’s using you, did you ever think about that?”

Smith just sat there with a pensive look on his face. 

“Who is it? Perhaps if you tell me, I might be able to give you some feedback on whether or not this person is on the up and up?”

Smith took a swig of his whiskey, but his hand was shaking nervously as his eyes darted around the room. 

“I don’t know who it is, exactly.” The reporter admitted at last. “But whomever it is? Was working with Jack Napier.”

“You do know this Jack Napier, was the Joker, right? The man that was going around and killing people in Gotham?”

Oscar paled, as he said quietly, “How did you know that?”

“Because I’m not an idiot and I know you’re walking on very dangerous ground right now, friend.”

“I think I should go.” 

Oscar went to stand up, but was stopped when a pretty blonde woman came around the booth, effectively blocking his escape as she sat down in the seat next to him. 

“Hey, Oscar!”

The reporters gaze narrowed accusingly at Robin.

“You brought back up?”

“Insurance actually.” Robin smiled, but his eyes were cold and forbidding. “I think we need to take a little walk out the back door to the right.”

“ _Fuck you.”_

“Now that’s not nice, friend.” Buffy gripped the man’s arm tightly, and watched him wince with a sense of perverse satisfaction. “We just want to take this somewhere more private.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Listen Oscar? I can call you Oscar, right?”

“Who are you?”

“Well, that’s a really good story. Why don’t we take this outside and I’ll give you an exclusive.”

The reporter eyed Buffy warily. 

“And exclusive on what?”

“A much better one, than the one you’re sniffing around.” Buffy glanced up when Willow came back to the table with Kennedy at her heels. “He’s not cooperating, Will.”

Oscar looked up at the waitress...who’s pretty blue eyes morphed into black ones and he jumped back into his seat in fear. 

“What the fuck?” He whipped his head around. “Who are you people?”

“We’re the people you can either work with? Or the people who will ruin your life as you know it.” Buffy challenged. “Now let’s go outside and discuss this like friends, okay?”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then my friend here is going to turn you into a mindless vegetable.”

Willow allowed her features to darken and Oscar paled heavily, nodding in agreement—before allowing himself to be escorted out of the club. 

Once they reached the back alleyway, Buffy pulled the reporter over to a secluded area across from the dumpsters and patted him down. 

“He’s clean.”

“Who _are_ you people?”

“That’s not your concern right now, Oscar. What is? Is the name of the person helping you.”

“I don’t know her name.”

“ _Her_?”

Oscar paled even more, and swallowed nervously. 

“Look, I have a burner phone which was sent to me right after Napier was killed. The information sent to me had his name on it, and it wasn’t until the Joker’s body was positively identified, that I made the connection between the two. I never met with Napier, but whoever sent the phone and the dossier, must’ve been working with the guy.”

“And where is this dossier?”

“What does it matter, if the information is false?”

“Because, Oscar? We believe the person who sent you that information, and working with Jack Napier? Runs a worldwide terrorist organization.”

“And what does that have to do with Faith Lehane?”

“She’s part of a group tasked to fight this organization.”

Oscar swallowed again and asked stiltedly, “Is that why her past is so sketchy?”

“Let me ask you this, Oscar? When government organizations recruit people to work for them, what kinds of people do they usually recruit?”

“Orphans. People with no family. No ties...”

“Sound like anyone you know?”

“Mr. Wood said Miss Lehane was in a coma for a year back in 1999.”

“She was.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because I was there. Faith and I work for the same organization.”

“Shit.” Smith stuttered quietly. “Are you going to have me killed?”

“That depends on _you_.”

“And what?”

“How willing you are to help us. Like I told you, whomever gave you that phone and dossier, is someone we believe was working with Jack Napier. Are you really going to use information that a psychotic whack job gave you?”

Oscar shifted his gaze over to the large black man, who was scowling deeply at him. Then he noticed the waitress from the bar...who seemed to be waiting for some kind of command to spring into action. 

“Why would Jack Napier have an axe to grind with Miss Lehane?”

“Because they were in an orphanage in Boston together? He’s been obsessed with her for years? Stalked her for years? Tried to ruin her life for years?”

Robin’s jaw clenched hard, listening to this unexpected truth and feeling his gut dropping in stark horror. If what Buffy was saying was true, and Robin had no doubt it was? Then it would explain so much of why Faith had suffered so much, and why she’d had such a hard time trusting anyone. He was sure there was more to the story too—and it made him wonder just how bad things had been for Faith when she was younger. 

They’d talked about her past somewhat, but whenever he’d asked, she’d shut him down by distracting him with sex. 

At first, he’d only been too happy to comply but after a time? It began to wear on him. 

Faith had been wrong when she’d accused him of cheating on her when he’d left for that teachers conference in New Orleans. Gemma Raver had been nothing more than a colleague, but over time he’d come to appreciate her listening ear and easy-going nature. She was a simple and uncomplicated woman, and he’d eventually had felt Faith distancing herself. 

He hadn’t meant to cheat but one too many at the bar, and her offer of crashing at her place had been a temptation he hadn’t refused. 

And it had eaten at him...

...still did, if he was completely honest. 

Faith had found out about his affair, like she always did—and she’d left him. 

Disappeared without a trace. 

Robin had tried to find her, but in a city as large as Cleveland he’d had no luck. He’d even taken to scouting the local graveyards at night, but she had always been good at hiding and eventually, he’d let go. 

Not because he’d wanted to, but because it had been easier. 

But now, knowing that there was some larger underlying reason for Faith and her tendencies made him feel like a first class heel for not doing all he could to help her feel safe enough to share her pain with him. 

“So you think whomever my other source is—is trying to hurt Miss Lehane?”

“They’ve already tried,” Buffy admitted, “hence why Jack Napier is dead. He kidnapped Faith, you do read the papers, right?”

Oscar scowled at the dig, but his expression became thoughtful. 

“Say I believe you? What’s to stop me from selling this story to the highest bidder?”

Robin growled out deeply, causing the reporter to glance his way in fear. 

“You could try,” Buffy shrugged, “but you probably won’t get very far, right Angel?”

Robin’s eyes widened when a figure emerged from the darkness, wearing a long black leather trench coat, his gait silent upon the ground. 

This was Angel...or _Angelus_ , as he was once known. 

“Who is this?”

“Hello, Oscar.” Angel’s bright eyes turned to Robin briefly, and there was no mistaking nor masking the repressed anger there. “Thank you for coming to meet with us.”

“Like I had a choice.”

Angel smirked and said evenly, “We all have choices, the trick is? To make the **smarter** choice.”

“And you’re the smarter choice?”

“I _am_.”

“And why should I believe you?”

Angel’s smirk deepened as he moved into Oscar Smith’s space and in a flash, his appearance changed and the reporter was thrust up against the wall with the face of Angelus snarling up at him. 

The vampire chuckled at the sudden smell of urine from the man in front of him...who’s hand was covering the expected muffled scream that had torn from the man’s mouth. 

“Listen _carefully_ , Oscar Smith. I know who sent you after Faith, and trust me when I tell you that it’s in your best interests to help us. If you don’t, I’ll have no problem letting my friend here have a go at you.”

Angel glanced over at Willow, who was now sporting blackened veins, hair and eyes as she walked over with a sweet smile on her face—magic crackling from her fingertips. 

“You’ve been a bad boy, Oscar... _tsk, tsk_...”

Willow moved to Angel’s side and let her magic out to play a bit, causing the reporter to squirm and cry out behind Angel’s hand. Willow then murmured an incantation and Angel dropped his quarry, his face returning to normal. 

“What did you do?”

“Oh, that?” Willow purred. “Just a little magical binding and tracking spell. You see, you’re going to help us whether you like it or not. We tried to give you the choice willingly, but... _bored now...”_

“Magic isn’t real!” Oscar whispered in horror. 

“Of course it is, silly man.” Willow grinned malevolently. “Now tell me, Oscar? Who gave you the information on Faith Lehane?”

“I told you, I don’t know who she is! She contacted me!”

“And the phone?”

Oscar pulled it out of his jacket pocket, which was snapped up by Angel. He moved over into the shadows again, and then a few moments later came back and placed it back into the reporters jacket, with a mocking pat. 

“Do you have a scheduled contact point or time?”

“No. The last time she called me was three days ago.”

“Next time she calls, answer it and keep her on the phone for at least a minute.” Angel demanded, and Oscar nodded emphatically. “You’re magically bound, so you can’t speak of this little meeting, unless you wish to suffer some really nasty consequences, understand?”

“Yes! I get it!”

“Good!” Angle gripped the man on the shoulder and then squeezed, until he cried out in distress. “Where’s the dossier?”

“It’s under the floor boards in my apartment.”

“And that’s where?”

“655 Webster Ave Apartment 3B.”

“Is it the only copy?”

“Yes.”

“Cameras, traps, anything we might need to worry about getting in?”

Oscar bit his lip, but Angel squeezed his shoulder even harder, causing the man to grit out sharply, “There’s a hidden camera system in the vent above the entryway that feeds into a larger system in my apartment.”

Angel glanced up briefly and gave a brief nod to Wayne, who flew off into the night. 

Robin also noticed the shadow of Batman hunched down on the top of the fire escape, ten stories above them...

...if he hadn’t seen it for himself, he might not have believed that Bruce Wayne was in fact, Batman. 

“Thanks, friend.” Angel then pushed off the wall and moved back a few paces. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Whatever.” Oscar cleared his throat hesitantly. “You people are _crazy_!”

“No,” Buffy mocked, “we are actually the good guys.”

“Right.”

Buffy shrugged, but didn’t argue the point. She just watched with calm amusement as the reporter backed away from them, until he ran around the corner and out of sight. 

“Is Batman going to get there before that idiot gets back to his apartment?” Willow asked and Angel chuckled. 

“Batman might’ve disabled his car, and temporarily blocked his cell phone link. He’ll be walking back.”

“Nice!” 

Willow giggled, before she glanced over at Robin, who was watching them all with a contemplative expression on his face. 

“Wood.” Buffy said stiffly. 

“It’s good to see you again, Buffy.”

“I _wish_ I could say the same,” Buffy lamented coldly, “but I suppose I should thank you for helping Faith.”

Robin bowed his head slightly and said, “I owed it to her.”

“Damn right you did.” Angel snarled.

“Angel...” Buffy warned, but the vampire wasn’t having any of it as he moved into Robin Wood’s space. 

“I should _pulverize_ you!”

“You should.” Robin admitted with a sigh, causing Angel to frown at him. “How bad was it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Jack Napier?” Robin clarified, “Just how much of Faith’s misfortunes was he responsible for?”

Robin watched Angel’s eyes brighten noticeably, while both Buffy and Willow both averted their gazes uncomfortably.

“How _bad_?”

“Bad.” Angel finally offered. “It’s not my story to tell, but I will tell you that he’s been stalking Faith since she was sixteen.”

Glancing up, Robin tried to piece together from what he knew about Faith’s past, and asked lowly, “Kakistos?”

“Yes.”

“The Deputy Mayor?”

“Yes.”

Robin swallowed heavily, his fists clenching with rage. “Gwendolyn?”

“Yes.”

“What else?”

“That’s not your business, Wood.”

“The fuck it _isn’t_!” Robin growled out in repressed rage. “ _ **What else?!”**_

Buffy moved over and stared up at Faith’s former lover and said coldly, “Jack Napier tried to _rape_ Faith in the orphanage when she was twelve.” Buffy gripped Wood’s arm, when he faltered back in shock, “She gave him part of his scars. That was the impetus for his obsession with her life. He took Violet, kidnapped her and was helping this woman to brainwash Violet. They wanted to create an army of Slayers.”

“Shit!” Robin rubbed both hands down his face in dismay. “Is Violet okay?”

“Now she is, but she almost didn’t make it. When Napier kidnapped Faith, he admitted to her what he’d done, and how he’d spent years trying to destroy her life. Yes, Faith’s made some fucked up choices, but looking back on it?” 

Buffy shook her head in impotent anger. 

“There’s _more_ , isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

Robin closed his eyes, and felt his heart constrict in two. 

“Please just tell me.” He begged lowly, “I swear, I’ll never speak of it.”

“And why should we believe you, Wood?” Angel demanded hotly. 

“Because I _still_ love her.” 

Robin admitted at last, and wasn’t surprised by the stunned looks of disbelief from Faith’s friends. 

“You have a shitty way of showing it, Wood.” Willow piped in. “You _cheated_ on Faith.”

“Once. I got drunk, and the next thing I knew? I had woken up in my colleagues bed. When I got back home, Faith somehow...she _knew_. She’d left me a note, and I tried to find her to apologize and explain...but...”

“She disappeared?” 

Buffy postulated and Robin nodded. All three shared a hesitant look with each other, but it was Willow who ultimately asked..

“Do you remember what happened that night?”

“No. I’d figured I must’ve drank too much. When I woke, the signs were there that I’d had sex...but I didn’t remember much more than going back to her place.”

“What was her name?”

“Gemma Raver.”

“Where is she now?” Angel countered, and Robin said simply, “She’s in Cleveland. She works in the Downtown Administration offices.”

Buffy gazed up at Angel, and he nodded. “I’m going to head to Cleveland. If I’m right...”

“Go. We’ve got this.”

Angel nodded and disappeared into the darkness. 

“What is going on?”

“Robin, there’s a good chance that you might’ve been drugged that night with the same kind of drug that Violet was given.” 

Buffy then went on to explain about Zac Daggett and what had happened, without going into too many specifics. 

“Shit!” Robin started to pace. “Do you think that Napier was behind this too?”

“It’s kinda looking like that.”

“I need to talk to Faith.” Robin pleaded, but Buffy just shook her head in the negative. 

“Not a good idea, not right now.”

“Why not?”

“Robin...Faith is with Bruce. They are in love, and she’s _happy_. Really happy...”

“We were happy before...”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy interrupted sadly, “I can tell Faith, and leave the decision up to her—but I’ll tell you now. It won’t make a difference.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Robin? Faith and Bruce are expecting.”

Robin halted his momentum, and turned to Buffy with a heartbroken expression on his face. 

“ _What?”_

“Shit, she’s going to _kill_ me for telling you this but yes...Faith is _pregnant_. Jack Napier somehow, fucked with her birth control and she fell pregnant. It wasn’t planned, but she and Bruce are happy...”

“She never wanted kids.” Robin whispered out pained. “I tried to talk to her...”

“I know. Believe me, it was a shock for both of them too.”

Robin glanced over at Willow, who turned her head away in discomfort. 

“He didn’t handle it well, did he?” Robin snarled. “What? Did he accuse Faith of getting pregnant on purpose to _trap_ him?”

“I don’t think Bruce ever said those actual words, Robin.” Buffy prevaricated. 

“But he thought them, didn’t he?”

Robin’s expression darkened when neither one would deny it. 

“He was shocked initially,” Willow finally spoke up softly, “But it was more because he was afraid that his choices might bring harm to a child and to Faith. Robin, he **loves** her. That man literally worships the ground Faith walks on. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her. Are you really so selfish, as to try and get in between what they have, to assuage your own guilt?”

Buffy watched as Robin’s expression went from anger to crestfallen in an instant. 

“She’s really in love with him?”

“Yes.” Buffy admitted unequivocally. “You’ve seen them together, right?”

“I have.”

“Tell me you didn’t see it.”

There was a pause, before Robin said brokenly, “I did.”

“Then let it go. You did a good thing tonight, Robin. Faith will eventually forgive you, and if it helps? I’ll talk to her. Let her make the decision if she wants to mend fences, but don’t take that choice from her? She’s had too many of them taken in her life.”

“She told me once that her Dad killed her Mom.”

“Yes.”

“I’d often wondered if she’d witnessed it.”

The second Robin saw Buffy and Willow flinch in pain, he roared and punched the wall next to him...splintering a hole in the masonry, and crying out in anguish. 

“ _Shit!”_ Buffy rushed over and grabbed Robin’s hand, which was already swelling and bloody. “Willow?!”

The witch came over and glanced up into Robin Wood’s tear-stained face and took his hand...mumbling an incantation, which lessened the pain and repaired most of the damage. 

“Wrap and ice it when you get back to your hotel?”

Robin nodded gratefully, as he took his hand and cradled it into his body carefully. 

“Thanks, Willow.”

The red-head patted his shoulder sadly, and then they watched Robin Wood disappear out of sight. 

“He really loves her.” 

Willow’s voice was filled with stunned realization. 

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“Are you going to tell Faith?”

“I sort of have to,” Buffy waved Willow back towards the club door, where Kennedy was acting as a sentry inside. “Not that’s it’s going to make a bit of difference to her.”

“I know.” Willow admitted, “Still? She’s going to be pissed and hurt.”

Buffy had no doubt that Willow was right. 

Faith was going to be _devastated_. 


	50. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Robin deal with their past.

Bruce returned home about an hour later with said dossier in hand. He’d planted his own untraceable devices in Oscar Smith’s apartment as well as had Lucius track the burner phone, and the man’s registered cell phone, too. 

He wasn’t going to take any chances with Faith’s safety. 

After he’d put the information into his secret room, he was about to go down to Faith’s when his elevator dinged. 

Walking into his living room, Bruce was stunned to see Robin Wood standing there, his expression cold and forbidding. 

Bruce then noticed the man’s right hand was wrapped in a bandage.

“I thought I’d _warned_ you about coming back into my home without an invitation.”

“This won’t take long.” Robin replied icily. 

Bruce sauntered over and took an offensive stance, glaring down the other man angrily. 

“Say whatever it is you think you need to, Wood—and then get the _fuck_ out of my home.”

Robin nodded, his posture radiating aggression—so Bruce wasn’t too shocked when the man came at him. 

But he was prepared...

He ducked the first assault, and moved around Wood’s side, taking out his leg from under him. When Wood dropped one-knee onto the floor, Bruce went to put him into a choke hold but Robin flung his head back, head-butting Bruce—

Who’d just managed to turn his head quickly enough, that it barely grazed him. 

Wood swung his left arm out simultaneously, into Bruce’s side—knocking him off balance that Robin was able to get to his feet and mount another attack...

Then the fight began in earnest, and Bruce had to admit...

Robin Wood was rather formidable...

Probably from training with Faith during their time they’d been together. 

Wood landed a few punches, one to Bruce’s midsection and another to his jaw...

While Bruce had taken a direct shot and cut Wood’s lip open and then cracked his nose...

...and currently? Had his right arm in a vice-like grip—crushing the injured hand for good measure.

“What the _fuck_ is your problem?” Bruce growled out in his Batman voice. 

Alfred, who’d heard the ruckus, had come into the room but Bruce shook his head at his butler, who then disappeared into the elevator and reappeared about two minutes later with Faith at his heels. 

“Bruce? What the hell are you _doing_ here, Robin!?”

“I’d like an answer to that as well!” Bruce bit out. 

Shoving him away, Bruce moved back and felt Faith at his side immediately, cupping his face and checking him over for injuries. 

“What happened?”

“When I came back from Oscar Smith’s apartment, he was here.”

Faith glared over at Robin and demanded caustically, “Well?”

“ _Why_ didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what, Faith? Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents, Jack?”

Faith paled and gaped at her ex in shock.

“How?”

“Fuck! Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!” Faith snarled, “It’s not your concern!”

“So, it wasn’t any of my concern when we were together?”

Faith’s gaze narrowed in warning. “You _cheated_ , Robin. I think you pretty much lost the right to demand anything of me after what you did!”

Robin shook his head in frustration.

“You assumed I’d cheated after you came back from LA. You thought it, right? Hence, why you distanced yourself?”

“And I was right!”

“No Faith, you _weren’t_.”

“Are you honestly trying to stand here and tell me you didn’t cheat on me?”

“No, I did. Tell me? That night you left me? How did you find out about me and Gemma?”

Faith tuned her head away and bit her lip hard. But when she looked back at him, Robin could see the hurt behind her eyes. 

“I called you and your little tart picked up your cell phone. Told me that you were sleeping in _her_ bed. Why? Didn’t she tell you I’d called?”

Robin ran his hands down his face, the right one bleeding through the bandage. 

“I was passed out.”

“ _What_?” Faith hissed. 

“I got so drunk that night, I didn’t remember having sex with Gemma. _Still don’t_. When I awoke the next morning? The signs were there, so I knew something had happened. I got up and left to come straight back to your place to talk to you. I remember checking my phone, but there were no messages nor any indication you’d called.”

“I don’t understand.” 

Faith took a startled confused step back, but Bruce knew instantly what had likely happened. 

“She drugged you?” 

Robin nodded. “When Angel confronted me tonight, we figured out that might have been the case. He’s on his way to Cleveland to confirm it.”

Bruce turned to Faith, who was staring at Robin unseeingly. 

“Gorgeous?”

“ _I don’t fucking believe this shit!_ ” She sobbed out shakily. “Are you actually standing there and telling me that...” she swallowed and clenched her fists and then throwing them up into the air as she turned away from everyone in the room—desperately trying to get her emotions under control. 

“Faith...it was just that one time, I _swear_.” Robin pleaded. “You _have_ to believe me. I tried to find you, and I even called Giles and left messages, but he never reached out.”

“He’d mentioned it once, and I told him I didn’t want to discuss it... _ever_...”

“I get that.”

Faith gripped onto her stomach, feeling it roll underneath her palms and she swayed slightly. Bruce noticing her distress, came over and scooped her up into his arms and brought her over to the sofa. 

“Tea?” 

He whispered gently, and Faith sniffled and nodded. 

“I’ll get some right away, Master Wayne.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

The butler left, and Robin watched with a heavy heart as Wayne grabbed a blanket off the back of his couch and tucked Faith underneath it. The love and concern was evident on the billionaire’s face, and made Robin want to seethe at how unfair life was. 

“Why did you come here?” 

Faith looked up at him with those big, wide, brown eyes and Robin shook his head in defeat. 

“I’m sorry, Goomah...”

“ _Don’t call me that!”_ Faith gritted out in fury. “I’m **not** your Mistress anymore, Wood! Besides, we both know that wasn’t what you wanted from me.”

“And you were _wrong_!” Robin bit out emotively. “I love you, Faith! All I’ve ever wanted was for you to trust me and open up to me! To let me in!”

“You’re _lying_!”

“I’m _not_!” 

Robin moved to come over to her, but Bruce growled at him in warning to stay back. 

Faith then gripped Bruce’s hand in desperation. He cupped her cheeks and felt her mind open to his, asking him if he’d be okay with her need to figure this out. 

After a moment Bruce nodded, saying lovingly, “If you need to do this, I can give you the space to do it.”

“Bruce...”

“No, _Domina_. I’m not going _anywhere_. You _know_ this, as do I. Who do you _belong_ to?”

“You... _always_.”

Bruce leant over and kissed her reverently. “As I belong to you. Nothing, and no one will _ever_ change that.”

“I know. I love you so much.”

“And I love you. More than anything.”

Faith nodded and watched as Bruce stood up and strode purposefully over to Wood, the other man watching him warily. 

“I know why you came here tonight, Wood—and all I will concede to is _this_. I didn’t handle it well, when Faith told me she was pregnant. I was scared, not because I didn’t love her—but because I wasn’t sure I deserved to be a Father. It took me almost losing both she and our _son_ to realize what a fool I’d been. But know this right now...” Bruce moved right in front of Robin and gritted out in his other voice, “You _ever_ come here again and I will **destroy** you. This is the only free pass I’m going to give you. Clear?”

“Crystal.”

Bruce glanced over his shoulder and cocked a weary smile at his girlfriend, before removing himself from the room. Alfred came in soon after with a tray of tea and offered Robin a cuppa. 

“Thank you, Sir—but I’m good.”

“Of course.” 

The butler turned to Faith, and Robin could see the clear affection between the two. 

“Can I get you anything else, Miss Faith?”

“No, Alfred. I’m fine, but can you please keep Bruce company?”

“Of course.”

Faith watched Alfred leave, and Robin could see the worry clearly etched onto her beautiful face. 

“You really love him, don’t you?”

Startled brown eyes fell immediately to his, but they softened instantly with the truth. 

“ _So much.”_

“I’m happy for you, Faith.”

“Thanks?”

Robin chuckled before his expression sobered. 

“I’m sorry, if I’ve overstepped.”

“No you’re not.” Faith deadpanned. “I don’t think in all the years I’ve known you, Robin...that I’ve ever heard those two words out of your mouth.”

“Fair enough,” Robin conceded, “but then again? You’ve never said them either.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“What _happened_ to us, Faith? Why didn’t you trust me enough to open up to me?”

Faith bit her lip, averting her gaze to stare out into the midnight sky that was hidden underneath a shroud of clouds. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted at last, “I don’t think I was ready.”

“And you were ready with Wayne?”

“Not at first. Bruce is complicated... _so complicated_. There’s a part of him that was as closed off as I was. He had the same barriers, same trust issues...but somehow?”

“You just work?”

“Yes. He doesn’t judge me and I give him the same consideration. Being with him? Even when things were strained for those few days after I found out I was pregnant? I knew, even then that deep down, what scared me the most was how quickly I’d come to need him in my life.”

“You _need_ him?” Robin shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve never needed anyone.”

“I know.” Faith grimaced uncomfortably for a second, before her body relaxed. “But I **need** him. He’s like the part of me I didn’t know I was missing, and I know that I’m that for him as well. I cared for you, Robin—but the truth was? I was never in love with you. I didn’t allow myself that luxury and for that, I’m _really_ sorry.”

Robin bowed his head, trying to get some semblance of control over his warring emotions. 

“For the record, I’m sorry about what happened with Gemma.”

“I won’t tell you it’s alright, Robin—because it’s _not_ , but if you’re telling the truth? I can’t hold it against you anymore. I just want to move on and be happy.”

“And he makes you happy, doesn’t he?”

“Would you be surprised if I told you that he makes me so happy, that I keep trying to find ways to excuse it?”

“Don’t self-sabotage yourself, Faith. You deserve to be loved and to love someone in return. I just want you to be happy! It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Thanks, Robin.”

He nodded, and then reluctantly stood up. 

“I should go.”

“Okay. Thank you for what you did, tonight. I do appreciate it and Bruce will too, in time.”

“He’s quite the fighter.”

“He is.” Faith smirked, as she noticed Robin’s cuts and scrapes. “He went easy on you.”

Wood’s eyes widened and then he scoffed. “He’s not that good.”

“Actually, he really _is_. Trained for seven years in Southeast Asia.”

“Where?”

“Doesn’t matter, but trust me when I tell you that Bruce is just as much Batman, as he is Bruce Wayne. He meant what he said earlier.”

“I’d mean it too, if you were still mine.”

Faith sighed softly in resignation. 

“You should _go_.”

“If you ever need anything?”

“If I do? I have a wonderful man who will burn the world down to give it to me.”

Robin couldn’t respond to that, so he cocked his head in defeat and made his way towards the elevator. 

Right before he walked into the box and left, he heard Faith’s voice say sincerely, “Find your own happiness, Robin.”

He turned around and put his hand over his heart, replying, “I’ll think about it.”

The door closed and Faith shook her head again before lolling it back onto Bruce’s couch. She closed her eyes and counted to ten in her head, and then smiled softly which she heard Bruce’s footsteps approaching. 

“Gorgeous?”

Opening her eyes, Faith stared into worried hazel ones, and lifted her hand—beckoning Bruce to her side, which he complied with immediately.

“He’s gone.”

“I know. You okay?”

“Five by five.”

“I’m sorry.”

Faith turned to look at her boyfriend, even as she felt his worry and fear. She quickly straddled his lap and cupped his cheeks within her hands and kissed him tenderly. 

“You have _nothing_ to apologize for, Krasivyy.”

“No?”

“Definitely not. I think he got off rather easily considering.”

Bruce smirked. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Tears fell down Faith’s cheeks and she choked out a sob, complaining, “Fucking hormones.”

Bruce chuckled, staring back at her curiously. 

“Were you even tempted?”

“No.” Faith replied instantly, her voice stern and uncompromising. “There is absolutely no doubt in my mind and in my heart, that my present and future is right here with you. Actually, I was sort of thinking about this a couple days ago too.”

“What?”

“Us. Our life.” She took his hand and placed it over her stomach and then settled both of hers on top of Bruce’s. “Our family. What that might look like someday?”

“And what did you foresee it looking like?”

“You and me.” Faith admitted softly. “This little one here.” She paused for effect and then whispered hesitantly, “Maybe a sibling or two, for Damian?”

Bruce’s eyes widened, and he sat up in wonder—cupping Faith’s chin and tilting her head up so he could see her expression fully. 

“You’re _serious_?” He breathed out in anticipation.

She bit her lip and nodded. 

“The thought was there.”

“Why, _how?”_

She smiled at Bruce’s stunned expression. She couldn’t exactly get a read on his emotions right now, as they were kinda all over the place. 

“It was Lucius actually.”

“What?”

“He came over the other day to drop off some stuff and I jokingly asked him about the cure for my morning sickness.”

Bruce grinned. “And what did he tell you?”

“That he probably wouldn’t be able to get it done for _this_ pregnancy.”

“Oh!” Bruce hummed in surprise, “And how did you take that?”

“I think I might’ve groaned and given him a hard time. But in his defense? He said that your Mom and Dad would’ve been thrilled.”

Bruce ran his left hand through Faith’s beautiful hair, ruminating on his own conversation with Lucius from not too long ago. 

“I might’ve talked with Lucius about that too.”

“He did mention you’d had.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. I might’ve asked him in a roundabout way, if you were the kind of person to do something out of obligation.”

Hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion, as Bruce asked evenly, “And what did he say?”

“That you would only do something if you truly wanted to do it. That once you’d made a choice, you committed to it 110%.”

“That’s true.”

“I know,” Faith admitted, “It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

Bruce smiled lovingly, and brought their lips together in a tender kiss, filled with promise. When he eventually broke the kiss, he inquired sincerely, “Can I share a recent truth with you?”

“Of course.”

“Promise you won’t freak out?”

“How about I’ll really try hard not to.”

“Good enough.” Bruce sighed softly, and Faith could feel a sudden spike of anxiety coming from him. She rubbed her hands down his arms and said reassuringly, “Whatever it is? I will promise to at least consider it seriously?”

He nodded, and then said with more feeling than Faith had ever heard from him, “When Robin called you, Goomah?”

“Ah, yes. It’s Mistress, in Italian, I think?”

Bruce nodded, but bit his lip in momentary irritation, before he forged on... 

“I’d guessed that actually, but it made me realize that this? What we have? I _can’t_ lose you, Gorgeous. I don’t think I’d survive it if I did.”

“Oh, Bruce!” Faith shushed him gently, placing sweet kisses on his cheeks, eyelids, neck and mouth. “You’re never going to lose me! I know this isn’t an easy thing for either one of us, right? We’re two fucked up people who’ve spent the better part of our lives keeping everyone we know at arms length. On paper, we probably look like a shrinks biggest nightmare, but somehow? We just fit. It just _works_. When I’m with you, there’s no where else I’d rather be. When you’re inside me? It feels like...”

Faith searched for the right word, and wasn’t surprised when Bruce finished with...

“ _Home_.” 

She nodded, and felt a few more stray tears falling down onto her cheeks. 

Bruce, wiped them away gently, continuing on quietly, “You’re _my_ home too, you know? I don’t even know how it happened? I just woke up one day and realized that this, what we have is **it** for me. You’re all I see. You’re all I want. And you, Gorgeous—are all I’ll ever _need_. It was like the Powers that Be created you specifically just for me.”

“I feel that way too.”

Bruce cocked his head, and then asked questioningly, “Then why are you so hesitant about moving in together? Marriage?”

Faith sighed and fidgeted on his lap, but to his credit—Bruce just held her steady and patiently waited for her to answer his question. 

“Is it really that important to you?” 

“Gorgeous, it’s the most important decision of my _life_. It’s not one I’m making lightly and it’s definitely not something I’ll ever change my mind about. For me? Once I made the decision to stop running and hiding in fear of what it would mean to make the commitment to our future and our family? It was the easiest choice I’ve ever made.”

“You’re giving me whiplash.” 

Faith grumbled causing Bruce to grin widely, and then he found himself laughing out loud at how simply wonderful his girlfriend was... 

“You think I’m joking?”

“No, Gorgeous—I know you’re not, that’s why I’m finding it amusing. I’m sorry if I’m giving you whiplash.”

“No you’re not.”

“Maybe?”

Faith smacked his chest in irritation, which only served to make Bruce snicker harder. 

“Stop laughing at me!”

“I’m _not_!” Bruce deflected. “I’m laughing at myself.”

“Huh?”

Looking at Faith’s genuinely perplexed expression, had Bruce realizing how utterly innocent she was in how she looked at some things.

“Faith? I’m laughing, because it’s true. I don’t mean to purposely give you whiplash, and I know it can seem like I’m going from zero to one-eighty at the drop of a hat.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” She scoffed. 

“Exactly. Doesn’t change the facts though.”

“Which are?”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

“Do you want a future with me?”

“Duh!”

Bruce lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “So you love me and you want a future with me, right? We are having a child together and I suppose the only question I have for you is this—are you committed to making this work with me no matter what life throws our way?”

“Well, yeah...”

Bruce just sat back and stared up into deep brown eyes and waited...

...and _waited_...

Until she rolled her eyes and snorted at the irony.

“You’re a _manipulative_ jerk.”

“True, but you like that about me—don’t lie.”

Leaning her head back and staring up at the ceiling, Bruce could sense Faith’s mind processing all the possibilities, as she came to terms with what he was literally proposing. 

“You want to get married before Damian is born, don’t you?”

Bruce’s smug leer had Faith wanting to smack him upside the head. 

“I really, really hate you right about now.”

“Why?” Bruce challenged. “Because you are vehemently against the idea, or because deep down? You know you want this too.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny anything.” Faith smirked. “I have no intentions of making this easy for you, Bruce Wayne. You want this? You’re going to have to...oh, I don’t know? Do the guy thing?”

“ _The guy thing?”_

“Yep!” Faith scrambled off his lap and pointed her finger at him, as if she was daring him...and didn’t think he’d take her up on it. “I’m not owning this one!”

“Gorgeous?”

“What?”

“Be _careful_ what you ask for.”

Faith stuck her tongue out at him and then literally—flounced towards the elevator, while Bruce watched her ass sway with a lecherous look upon his handsome face. 

“I’m going to go take a nice, hot bubble bath.” 

Faith commented succinctly, pressing the elevator button and then laughed out loud when she felt Bruce chasing her down, lifting her up into his arms—and absconding with her into the elevator as the door opened. 

“Not without me, you’re not.”

“I didn’t realize it was an invitation, Krasivyy?”

“I don’t realize it wasn’t, Gorgeous.”

“Whatever.” Faith kissed him lightly. “Bubble bath first.”

“Fine, but then I plan on spending the rest of the night buried between your luscious thighs...”

“That sounds perfect!”

Their laughter echoed throughout Bruce’s penthouse and as the elevator door closed, Alfred wandered out to grab the empty tea cups—with a wide, more than pleased smile upon his face.   



	51. Roger Wyndham-Pryce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Faith meet Wesley’s Father.

The next morning found Bruce wrapped securely around Faith in her bed, as he hummed in total satisfaction. Last night had been fucking _amazing!_ After they’d taken their bath together, Faith had decided that she wanted to see just how far she could push his limits...

...and after some initial hesitation...which had been more due to his own hang ups than anything else...

...he’d given in and let _go_...

And _fuck it all_ , if he hadn’t nearly passed out from the sheer bliss of how hard she’d made him come. 

He was still a bit sore, but it hardly registered other than he was leaning to enjoy the ride more and more...

...plus reaching that blissful state of sub space was becoming easier too.

As he shifted slightly, Bruce groaned a bit and felt Faith’s pleased hum, as she wiggled herself deeper into his warm embrace.

“Good morning.” He whispered into his girlfriend’s ear. 

“It _is_.”

“I could get _very_ used to this.” Bruce admitted, with a contented sigh. 

“I’m not complaining.”

“Me neither.”

Faith rolled over and smiled impishly, her deep brown eyes sparkling with warmth. 

“So you enjoyed last night?”

Bruce mirrored her expression, before nodding. “You _know_ I did.”

“And here you’d thought you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“I have to admit, that I wasn’t sure how to feel about it at first—but... _damn!"_

Giggling happily, Faith purred, “I really enjoyed watching you get off on it.” 

“Hmmm, I wonder? Is it just as pleasurable for a woman?”

“From my experiences at Simitar, there are some women who really enjoy the act...but men get off on it more.”

“Have you ever been curious?”

“Not really, at least—not before last night.”

Bruce’s face morphed into a devious smirk. 

“So you’d be open to it?”

“I think I’d be willing to try a plug, then letting you fuck me with it in. Just for experimental purposes only.”

“Oh? For _science_ , huh?”

“Sure.” She smiled widely. “Are you sore?”

“A bit.”

“Good sore?”

Kissing her softly, Bruce murmured against Faith’s lips, replying sincerely, “The _best_ kind.” 

Glancing over briefly at Faith’s bedside, Bruce noticed the time. 

“When is Giles going to be here with Roger?”

“Eleven.”

“Well, that gives us an hour to get you fed, showered and presentable.”

Rolling over again, Faith’s eyes widened when she too--noted it was already well after nine. 

“What time did we finally get to sleep last night?”

“It was more like this morning. Maybe four?”

“Wow!”

“Exactly.” Bruce winked. 

“You’re insatiable.”

“And?” Bruce mocked playfully. “Are you complaining? I told you before, I like sex.”

“Like?”

“Fine! I love having sex with you, Gorgeous.”

“Well that’s cool, because I ditto that statement.”

Chuckling deeply, Bruce went to roll out of bed and moaned softly, “Shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Once they’d showered, Bruce grabbed his clothes from the previous day and told Faith he was going upstairs to get some clean clothes and check to see if Alfred had made breakfast. About twenty minutes later, Bruce came back down—dressed in his suit and an invitation to come upstairs to eat. 

Faith was pleasantly surprised to see breakfast set out on the balcony, the morning weather perfect for dining alfresco. Alfred has fresh OJ, Crepes with fresh raspberries and lemon compote, with powdered sugar and ginger tea. 

“Oh, this smells yummy.” Faith hummed happily. 

Bruce grinned watching Faith take bite of Alfred’s specialty, her moan of satisfaction had his body reacting viscerally. 

“Gorgeous...”

“Hmm?” She licked her lips obscenely, causing Bruce to rumble a deep sound in warning. 

“We have a guest arriving within the hour.”

“And?” Faith took another bite of the crepe and moaned out in bliss. 

“Are you trying to test my resolve?”

“Why? Is it _working?”_

“Might be.”

“Hmm,” taking a sip of her orange juice, Faith winked over the rim of her glass at Bruce’s lecherous look. “Do you have to go to work after my meeting?”

“I was planning on it, why?”

“Because I need to get a hobby...something I can do to fill my days—besides training, working out and fucking you.”

Bruce sat back and wiped his mouth carefully, taking a brief sip of his coffee and considered Faith’s request. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I have that phone call today at three with Natalia Grovers.”

“The Head of the Romanov foundation?”

“That’s the one.”

Taking another bite of his breakfast, Bruce pondered a few ideas and then said simply, “Did you ever have any interest in school, beyond getting your GED?”

Faith cocked her head curiously. 

“How did you know about my GED?”

“Well, when I initially looked into your background, I found a record of it in Cleveland. When Wood was at Oswald’s last night, he confirmed it to Smith that he’d helped you study for it.”

“Ah,” she nodded, “He did.”

“And?”

“School was never a serious interest. At least, not after I was called.”

“What about before?”

Faith shrugged. “The Catholic school at the orphanage wasn’t very comprehensive. The teachers never called on me much because I really didn’t talk to anyone, even after Jack disappeared. There was one girl however, who came to the orphanage when I was thirteen. She spoke Russian too, and we’d talk. It was the first time I really had conversations with anyone in years, other than my own private ones when I’d talk to my Mom or babushka.”

“What happened to her?”

“Don’t know,” Faith admitted, “She was still there when my Watcher came for me.”

“What was her name?”

“Ekaterina Zuykova.”

“Was she a friend?”

“She was more like a comrade. We didn’t share secrets or talk about intimate stuff, but we did get into trouble and we tried to run away once together.” Faith huffed out an amused snort. “Katia, that was what she liked to be called, wanted to join the circus. Be a trapeze artist.”

Shaking his head, Bruce leant forward curiously, “Is that why you ran away with her? To join the circus?”

“Well, yeah. Seemed like a pretty good idea at the time.”

“How far did you get?” 

“We made it all the way from Boston to New Bedford to try and catch a ferry or something to New York City. I think that’s where Katia was originally from? Anyway, in New York there was, according to Katia, a Russian Circus there. I forget the name of it, but that’s where Katia wanted to go.”

“I think I know that one,” Bruce admitted with a fond shake of his head, “my parents took me to it when I was seven? Big Apple Circus.”

Faith snapped her fingers and nodded enthusiastically, “That’s the one!”

“You know, it’s still performed in New York?”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm, and since we’ll be in New York for a few days?”

Faith’s dark eyes glistened with interest. 

“Could we?”

Chuckling deeply, Bruce took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Consider it done.”

“Cool!” 

They continued to eat for a bit more, until Bruce asked, “So? Hobbies?”

“Well, when I was young, I used to draw a bit.”

Hazel eyes shot up and widened. 

“Were you any good?”

“Dunno, I never showed my stuff to anyone.”

“Do you still have any of it?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I could always get you some supplies and you could try your hand at it again?”

Faith shrugged again, but didn’t reply and Bruce decided not to press the issue any further. 

At least for now...

“What about you?” Faith inquired.

“What about me, Gorgeous?”

“Hobbies?”

Bruce tilted his head, his mind wandering over if he’d ever had anything that would remotely be considered an actual hobby?

“I guess business and vigilante tendencies don’t count?”

“Maybe in _our_ world, but to the average person? I don’t think so.” 

Faith mocked, causing Bruce to shake his head at her fondly. 

“Probably. I never had much interest in sports in school, but I do enjoy motorcycles and fast cars.”

“I do like fast cars and motorcycles too. In Cleveland there was an underground race scene there.”

Bruce sat back stunned. “Did you race?”

Faith grinned, leaving Bruce wondering if there would ever come a time that he wouldn’t be amazed by his beautiful girlfriend.

“I remember seeing you handle your motorcycle quite well, Gorgeous. You’re utterly fearless on your bike.”

Faith shrugged. “I’m just as good driving a car. What can I say, I like danger.”

Grinning, Bruce didn’t have a retort for that. He knew himself well enough to know he craved a bit danger as well. 

The rest of breakfast was filled with idle chit chat, and when Alfred came to clear their plates...Bruce took Faith back to her apartment. They’d just managed to get comfortable when a knock sounded at Faith’s door. 

Bruce went over and opened it, greeting Giles and the man he could only assume was Roger Wyndham-Pryce politely, before waving them both inside. 

Sauntering back over to Faith, who was now standing—her entire body language screaming she was on edge, Bruce wrapped a reassuring arm around her waist as the introductions were made by Giles. 

“Miss Lehane, it’s good to finally meet you in person.”

Faith nodded, but didn’t say anything—she just gestured for everyone to sit. 

Deciding to take point, Bruce felt it was probably best to get a few things out of the way. 

“The last time I spoke with Premier Vladim, he was kind enough to share with me that your interest in helping Faith was mostly at his request?”

“I’ve known Vladim for quite some time, so when he was told of Miss Lehane’s background, he called me for verification.”

“Which you provided?”

“I did.” Roger then turned his focus to Faith. “I didn’t think you’d mind, Miss Lehane.”

“I was just surprised.”

“By which part? The fact that I know Vladim personally, or that I would agree to work with you after what happened with my son?”

Roger had expected Faith Lehane to flinch, grimace or give some sort of awkward sign of discomfort at the question—but she just stoically stared him down as she replied, “I wasn’t _aware_ that you and Wesley were that close?”

Roger chuckled. “Wesley was a smart boy, eager but easily complacent. He wasn’t ready to be a Watcher, but Quentin went against my wishes and allowed Wesley to go to Sunnydale.”

“Wesley was green, by the book and had no real world experience.” Faith clarified. “Our history was complicated.”

“You mean, when you tortured him?”

“Or when he tried to give me up to the Watcher hit squad twice?”

“Perhaps he’d felt you’d deserved it.”

“Angel didn’t.”

“Ah, Angelus.”

Faith glowered. “I’d be _careful_ if I were you. Angel, may have been Angelus at one time...”

“More than once...”

“Whatever,” Faith waved her hand dismissively, “but he’s _not_ anymore. He’s also the Head of Wolfram and Hart. If the Powers that Be feel that Angel has earned that right to be a champion for good, who are any of us to speak against it.”

“You feel quite strongly for that vampire.”

“I _do_.” Faith gritted out. “And in spite of my unsavory history with Wesley? In the end, we fought on the same side. He was a hero, trying to take out Cyvus Vail.”

“And he died for it.”

“He did.” Faith cocked her head subtly and then demanded, “If you’re coming here was some lame ass attempt at revenge?”

“Faith...” Giles warned, but Faith shook her head in response. 

“Look, Giles—I have a right to know what his play is here.” She then turned the full weight of her stare on Roger and said caustically, “You’re very good at compartmentalizing your emotions, so I can’t get a read off you.”

Roger’s eyes widened, but he didn’t dispute her claim either. 

“And I know that for all of Wesley’s faults, he _didn’t_ deserve to die the way he did. I can’t go back and change the past.”

“No you can’t,” Roger agreed evenly, “And you did make the choice to fight the First, help Angel battle the demon hoard and take down the Circle of the Black Thorn.”

“That was Angel.”

“Perhaps, but you did help vanquish the Senior Partners.”

“I only did what Angel needed me to.”

“Hence why I’m here, Miss Lehane. I’m not going to fill your head with empty platitudes and tell you that I don’t miss Wesley and wish he was still amongst the land of the living. For all your history with my son, my own is less than stellar. He died, thinking I didn’t love him and wasn’t proud of his accomplishments. I do know despite your history with him, that you did fight on the same side at the end. I also know if Wesley were still alive, he’d want me to do this.”

“If Wesley were still alive, he’d likely be here instead of you.”

“Touché.” Roger nodded sagely. “I’m here to offer my services to you. You’ll find, that my knowledge about the inner workings of the European nobility is quite extensive, as is my understanding of their customs, etiquette and protocols. This position for me, serves several purposes.”

“Which are?” Bruce inquired skeptically. 

“First, it allows me to return to the IWC in an official capacity. Secondly, it will serve to remove my debt to Vladim and lastly, it will help you grow into the role you were born to play.”

“You seem to have this all figured out?” Faith accused softly. 

“Miss Lehane, you no longer require an official Watcher, however? It would be folly to assume that you don’t need to have that safety net. Someone who understands your calling, and knows where your priorities lay.”

Faith glanced up at Bruce, and he silently understood her look. He then turned back to Roger and asked, “And your first duty is to what?”

“The first duty of any Watcher is to make sure that their charge is provided for, prepared and equal to any task.”

“And if Faith isn’t actively Slaying at any point, then what?”

Roger’s eyes narrowed. “And why would she not be actively Slaying, as it were?”

“I’m pregnant.” Faith blurted out. 

Bruce and Faith watched as Roger Wyndham-Pryce sat back stunned. It was several moments before he composed himself well enough to speak. 

“How far along are you?”

“Seven weeks.”

“That’s early.”

“We’re having a boy.” Faith supplied, and almost snorted out a laugh at Roger’s gobsmacked expression. 

“How?”

“Slayer dream.”

“ _Unprecedented_.”

“In what way?” Giles asked, intrigued. 

“The Powers have, as I’m sure you’re aware, Giles—only allowed the gift of foresight to be given as part of a Slayer’s duties. The fact that the Powers have bestowed this knowledge now, it must’ve been for a greater purpose.”

“Great.” Faith deadpanned, which caused Giles and Roger to smirk at her. 

The latter then considered the man next to the Slayer and said carefully, “I have been given to understand that you are quite formidable in your own right, Mr. Wayne.”

“I get by.”

“Modesty.”

“ _Reality_ ,” Bruce countered, “If you’d asked me that question a few months ago, I would’ve given you a different response. However, being with Faith and fighting side by side with her? I’ve come to understand that there are forces out there that even I couldn’t have foreseen, nor adequately prepared myself for.”

“And now that you have?”

“Faith and I train almost daily, and whilst she hasn’t been out Slaying much since her hospitalization, we understand the importance of remaining vigilant. I don’t know if you’re aware, but there is a new foe that we are trying to take down.”

“Giles did mention it to me. I’m afraid my knowledge of Miss Tate is limited.”

“Her real name is Talia al Ghul. Daughter of Ra’s al Ghul.”

“The former head of the League of Shadows.”

“And my former mentor.”

“You trained with the League?”

“For seven years.”

Roger nodded, impressed. “Then I will reiterate my former statement, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce cracked a slight grin, while Faith just burrowed herself closer and felt Bruce’s arm settle her into his side more firmly. 

Then he heard Faith’s voice speak into his mind. “ _What do you think?”_

Glancing down, Bruce cupped Faith’s chin and tilted her head up so he could see her eyes. His slight incline of his head, let Faith know he was on board with Roger working with her. 

Two sets of eyes were watching the couple across from them. Rupert had to admit that Bruce Wayne was well-suited for Faith. He complimented her rougher edges and tempered her impulses nicely. His training with the League had likely purged the man of his baser tendencies when it came to battle...whereas Faith had always been instinct and unpredictability wrapped in a deadly package. 

Roger Wyndham-Pryce had been warned by Vlad that Bruce Wayne was not a man to be trifled with. He hadn’t given particulars, but Roger had been around enough to know that the man held himself with a restrained aggression only acquired through seeing battle and fighting for a higher purpose. He hadn’t been thrilled with the prospect of working with the woman who’d tortured his son, but he also knew how that darkness that was inherently a part of a Slayer, could tip the balance towards the abyss, if not vigilant. The fact that Faith Lehane had succumbed to that darkness, and somehow? Found a way out of it enough to emerge out the other side was to be commended. 

If he’d hadn’t known it before, Roger had to admit that the reason the Powers had sent the Slayers to Gotham likely had just as much to do with fighting evil, as it did with the couple sitting before him. 

“How would this work?” Faith said at last. 

“That’s up to you, Miss Lehane. Giles has offered to reinstate me to a full Watcher and the IWC will be paying my salary.”

Faith glanced at Giles and he nodded. 

“I did talk to Karl at Bank Suisse about sending some funds to the IWC for the training of the junior brigade.”

Giles chuckled. “He did speak of it the last time I talked to him.”

“And?”

“That’s up to you, Faith. I won’t tell you that the money wouldn’t be appreciated and put to good use.”

“Then if you’re willing to accept the help, I guess I can work with Mr. Pryce.”

“Don’t sound so eager, young lady.” Roger mocked. 

“I’m not trying to offend you, Sir. It’s just been a lot of changes for me in a short amount of time.”

“That I can understand.”

Bruce squeezed her hand to gain her attention, and Faith cocked a questioning eyebrow at him. 

“There is an empty apartment a few floors down, if it makes it easier for you to have Mr. Pryce in closer proximity?”

Faith gazed back to the older gentleman and shrugged helplessly. 

“Up to you?”

“That’s fine, Mr. Wayne. I can have my things moved in by the end of the week. I will start on your correspondence immediately, and arrange your calendar accordingly.”

“We are attending a climate conference in New York starting on the 24th.” Bruce clarified, “You might wish to get in touch with Yevgeny Grimov, to coordinate itineraries.”

“Ah, the Russian Consulate General?”

“Yes, he will be hosting a small gathering in Faith’s honor during the conference. Miranda Tate will likely be in attendance and we are trying to determine the best way to deal with her and her organization.”

“Say no more,” Roger nodded, “I will get on that right away.” He then turned to Faith and asked, “Are there any other issues I need to be made aware of, Miss Lehane?”

“Yeah. I have a phone call today at three with Natalia Grovers.”

“Head of the Romanov Foundation?”

“Yes.”

“I will be back before then, but if I might suggest? If you are planning on joining forces with Lady Grovers, then you might consider extending her an invitation to this soirée that Mr. Grimov is hosting?”

Faith looked up and Bruce and he nodded in agreement. 

“I can do that.”

“Good.” 

“And Bruce did promise to take me to the Big Apple Circus when we’re in New York.”

Giles eyes widened comically, and then he grinned—while Roger hummed thoughtfully. 

“Russian circus, yes?”

“Yep.” Faith bit her lip and then asked quietly, “Is there anyway to look into whether a Ekaterina Zuykova works at the circus?”

“There is, how do you know her?”

“We were at the orphanage together before my first Watcher came for me.”

“I do believe it might be possible to locate her if she’s with the circus.”

“Good, thanks.”

“Of course, Miss Lehane.”

“Any chance you can just call me, Faith?”

Roger shook his head. “In private, that is fine. When we are in public however and in particular when I’m dealing with your official correspondence, I will refer to you as either—Your Grace, or the Grand Duchess Nickolayevna. Your middle name is Nicolette, correct?”

Faith nodded. “It is.”

“So a version of Nickolayevna?”

“Probably. That was kinda my thought, too.”

“Are there any pressing issues I need to deal with immediately, other than the aforementioned ones?”

“Uhm...my stylist?”

“Yes?”

“Her name is Annette and she’s stopping by tomorrow with a bunch of new stuff for me to look at.”

“What time?”

“Ten.”

“I will make sure I’m present to meet with her.”

“Okay.” 

Bruce felt Faith collapse slightly into his side, obviously feeling a bit less overwhelmed and more relaxed. 

“Faith mentioned to me this morning about trying to find something to do, outside of training.”

“Oh?” Giles sat forward with interest. “Anything specific?”

Faith shrugged helplessly. 

“We will need to spend quality time working on etiquette, Miss Lehane.” Roger insisted. “To that end, I will be setting up sessions daily that will deal with expectations going forward. You might feel this is unnecessary but trust me when I tell you that the purpose of these lessons are not only so you don’t misstep in certain situations, but to maintain an air of distance to those around you.”

“Really?”

“Oh, _yes_...” Roger smirked, opening his briefcase that Faith just noticed and watching him pull out a small stack of books. “You will need to familiarize yourself with the basics of these books. We will go over each in detail. This is a different kind of training you will need to master.”

Faith took the books, and scrunched her face in disgust. 

“Seems a bit ridiculous.” 

“Actually, it’s _not_.” Roger assured silkily, “There are very few individuals who will be more notable in a room than you, when it comes to social standing. For all intents and purposes, you are the sole Heiress to the Russian oligarchy...even if it is in name only. Those who would outrank you in terms of standing would be crowned Kings and Queens of their own realms—but not their children.”

“So the Queen of Great Britain, I would have to bow to her?”

“Yes.”

“But not her Heir?”

“No.”

“But why?” Faith wondered aloud. “He’s a crown Prince, right?”

“He’s a Prince. In Britain, they do not have the formal title of Crown Prince. Technically, he is of the same standing as you are, as your Prababushka was the Grand Duchess and an heir to the direct ruling line, even if it was a Patriarchal Oligarchy at that time. As are you. Those within the Romanov family who remain to this day, are of the lesser lines of your Prapraded’s lineage. Still of the same blood, of course—but not considered direct heirs.”

“But does it matter if there is no throne?”

“No, at least not in the ways in which you’re thinking. You may not be Empress, but your title is still validated based upon the historical European customs. You are a Grand Duchess. If the Russian oligarchy were to be reinstated to dynastic rule?”

“Then I’d have the legitimate claim?”

Roger nodded. “Hypothetically, you would become Empress or your son more likely, would be Czar.”

“Lucky me.” Faith replied cynically, and everyone laughed. 

“I take it that’s not an aspiration?” 

Roger queried, and Faith just stuck her tongue out at him, but didn’t answer directly. 

“Point taken.” Roger smiled. 

“And if Vlad asks, you don’t have to lie to him.” Faith reprimanded cattily. 

The elder Watcher nodded in appreciation. 

“You do understand quite a bit, don’t you?”

“I’m not an idiot, Sir—and I don’t like people trying to manipulate me either. Vlad seems like an okay dude, and I’m sure he’s a decent enough leader but politics aren’t my play. I prefer the direct approach.”

“Noted.”


	52. New York State of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Bruce make their way to the Big Apple, and Faith makes some new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the official beginning of Gossip Girl’s character introductions. Having never watched to show beyond the first season in 2007, I’ve taken much liberty with the characters, so it’s definitely not canon. Some of the characters, like Bart Bass, are probably a bit OOC, and resemble nothing physically about the actors who portray them.

The ensuing days passed in some kind of blur, and all Faith knew was she was spending all her free time studying like she needed to pass some kind of life or death exam. 

Except this was now her life, and she hadn’t slayed anything in _weeks._

Bruce had been ever attentive, when he wasn’t at Wayne Enterprises or out patrolling the streets of Gotham—he was at home, with Faith—learning all there was to learn about European Royalty, their customs, and traditions. 

Faith was even trying to learn how to curtsy properly, her natural feline grace not exactly helpful for certain tasks. 

So when the day came for she and Bruce to head to New York? 

She was chomping at the bit to get out of her apartment and see the sights. 

Buffy and John were still seeing each other under cover, much to the man’s chagrin. The only compromise that Buffy had capitulated to, was that once Miranda and Bane were dealt with, she’d move forward with their relationship, full stop. 

Zac was still in California with Angel. He’d emailed Miranda and explained that he’d been given an internship that summer with a firm out of LA. He didn’t go into specifics, but promised to get in touch with her soon. 

The return email had been polite, and understanding—and only served to make John seethe more in anger at how he’d been manipulated by someone he’d truly cared for, once upon a time. 

Buffy, John and Willow had left for New York the day before Faith and Bruce. John had flown solo on his private jet, while Buffy and Willow has driven in undercover to Wolfram and Hart’s offices in Manhattan. Since Gotham was only a few hours driving distance from The Big Apple—Bruce and Faith had decided to drive into New York in the armored Mercedes that Lucius had procured. 

Thankfully, no one had figured out yet that Bruce had been driving said vehicle for his own personal use. 

They would be in New York for five days. 

The first day was to check into their hotel. Bruce had contacted the Hotel Owner of the Waldorf--when they’d decided to make the trip, explaining that he would need a secure place for he and Faith to stay. Bruce had no idea who was, if anyone, initially booked into the Presidential Suite, but as of an hour after he’d spoken to Clarissa, (who now ran her family’s business)—he and Faith were confirmed.

When they arrived, Clarissa and her younger sister Blair, were waiting for them. 

“Bruce!”

Bruce smiled widely as he escorted Faith from their car, and up the steps to the hotel’s entrance. 

“Hello, Clarissa!”

The woman kissed Bruce’s cheeks in welcome, before her dark eyes turned to Faith and her smile widened even more. 

“Your Grace.” Clarissa curtsied, (much better than she was doing at present, thought Faith ironically). “Welcome to the Waldorf.”

“Thank you.” Faith smiled in return. “And thank you for accommodating us on such short notice.”

“It’s not a problem, and I wanted to point out if you look up, that we have the National Flag of Russia flying in your honor.” 

Faith glanced up, her eyes taking in the majestic sight, while Bruce kissed her temple lovingly. Clarissa winked at them both, and then gestured towards her sister in greeting. 

“Might I introduce you to my younger sister, Blair.”

“Your Grace.” Blair offered the same perfunctory greeting and then her gaze turned to Bruce and she smirked. “You’re looking good, Bruce.”

“It’s good to see you too, Blair. How’s Chuck these days?”

The young girl frowned and Clarissa laughed softly, “They’re having a bit of a _spat_ , right now.”

“Ah.” Bruce nodded. “Say no more.”

Bruce handed over his car keys over to the valet, while their bags were being removed by the concierge service. Bruce had purchased a full set of vintage Louis Vuitton trunks for Faith, and her current trousseau was being settled onto the proper carriers, which would be delivered to their room in short order. 

“Come in and let me show you both around.” Clarissa offered. “It’s been a while since you’ve been here, Bruce.”

“It has.”

“And what about you, Your Grace?” Clarissa queried politely, “Have you ever been to New York?”

“No. I’ve never been much of a traveler, and now it’s like I can’t go anywhere without a full entourage of nosy reporters and paparazzi dogging my heels.”

They moved inside, and Blair piped up sarcastically, “The press are vultures.”

Faith grinned and nodded, “I’ll second that.”

Both women smirked in commiseration. 

“My little sister is a Page Six darling, I’m afraid,” Clarissa lamented, “Not that she seeks it out. They seem to think that it’s good sport to chase her around the city.”

“Sounds like a chore.”

“It is.” Blair snarked. “Apparently, it’s not ladylike to toss your non-fat ristretto dulce americano in the face of a stalking paparazzo.”

“Please tell me that it was at least _extra hot_ , when you did it.” Faith deadpanned, earning a lifted eyebrow from Clarissa and a snort of laughter from Blair. 

“Ooh, I like her a lot, Bruce!”

“Thanks, Blair.”

“Don’t give her any ideas, Your Grace.”

“Oh call me, Faith? Please? While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m sure it’s not really necessary.”

Both Blair and Clarissa nodded gratefully in agreement.

“Well I’m Blair then...and my sister prefers to go by Lari.”

“Good enough.” 

Once they’d made into the Presidential Suite, Bruce tipped the valet a couple of C notes and surveyed the room carefully. 

“It’s been redone recently?”

“Yes,” Clarissa nodded. “Mom felt it would be good to reinvest in some renovations of some of our more notable rooms. Blair actually did most of the interior design for this one.”

Faith perused everything and nodded here and there, at a few things she liked. 

“The colors are nice, warm without being too heavy.”

Bruce glanced over at his girlfriend in surprise. 

“I didn’t know you had an eye for interior design, Gorgeous?”

Faith shrugged. “Well, now you do.” She gazed over her shoulder and winked impishly. “But seriously, this is cool.”

“Wayne Manor is going to need to be completely redecorated after the construction is done...”

“Nice _try_ , Krasivyy.”

Bruce sighed, and shook his head in amusement while Clarissa and Blair both side-eyed each other knowingly. 

“Wow!” Blair snickered, “Didn’t think I’d ever see the day that Bruce Wayne became the chaser...and not the _chasee_...”

“Nice, Blair.”

“Tell me I’ve gotten it wrong, Wayne?”

“You didn’t.” Faith purred in challenge. “But to his credit, he’s learning patience and compromise. Two skills that will serve him well, for the future.”

“Why do I feel like I’m missing something vital here?” Clarissa queried, while Blair’s gaze narrowed in suspicion before widening in comprehension. 

“ _No!_ ”

Bruce groaned, causing Blair to clap and squeal like the teenager she was. 

“Oh, good _God_ , Sis!”

Blair’s face morphed into a shit-eating grin. 

“Are you _really_?”

Faith cocked her head at the younger girl and said sincerely, “You’re too observant.”

“Holy shit!”

“Language!” Lari chastised. “If Mom were here, she’d be giving you a firm scolding.”

“Where is Eleanor, these days?”

“She’s in Paris this month with Cyrus.”

“Good for them.”

“Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

“No, we were going to order in...why?” Bruce asked. 

“There’s a new art exhibit in Soho opening tonight at EdenSquare.”

Bruce quickly averted his gaze, but Faith wasn’t a fool...

“EdenSquare?”

“Yes, it’s owned by Eden van der Woodsen.” Blair quipped, with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Her younger sister is my best friend, Serena.”

“Well, isn’t this just a slice of the _irony_ ,” Faith mocked, “are we going to run into all your _former_ lovers on this trip, Krasivyy?”

“Faith...”

“ _What_?” Her doe brown eyes widened in faux innocence, which was completely negated by her silent words of, “ _You’re in trouble_ ” into his mind.

Bruce glared at Blair, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet as her eyes darted from Faith back to him, waiting for the inevitable bomb to drop. 

“I think we should go.” Faith offered sweetly. “Interior decorating 101, right? You in, Blair?”

“So in!”

“Cool!” Faith sauntered over and patted Bruce’s cheek before placing a brief kiss on said cheek with relish. “Dinner?”

“You feeling up for room service?”

“Sure.” Faith sighed and then asked their hostesses. “What time does the gallery show start?”

“Seven.”

Faith grabbed Bruce’s wrist and noted the time. “That’s in three hours. Do I have time for a bubble bath?”

“Yes, Gorgeous.”

“Cool!” She cooed. “Thank you ladies for making sure we got up here in once piece. I’m going to make myself over for tonight.”

“You’re _perfect_ as is.” Bruce responded sincerely.

Faith just smirked at him and bid farewell to the Waldorf’s, before escaping into their ensuite. 

When she was gone, Bruce turned to Blair and raised his finger in warning. 

“You’re _trouble_.”

Blair snorted. “Whatever. Something tells me that woman in there is _more_ than a match for Eden van der Woodsen.”

“She’s managed to land our dear Bruce here...or was it the other way around?” Lari inquired in her most saccharine tone. 

“ _Definitely the latter._ ” Bruce admitted softly, and both women smiled in surprise at how utterly smitten Bruce Wayne appeared to be. 

Who would’ve thought?

When the Waldorf’s left, Bruce called down and ordered a smattering of options and then found Faith in their large bathtub, her hair pulled up and surrounded by scented bubbles. 

“That’s a perfect sight.” He hummed, sauntering in and sitting down on the padded bench nearest Faith’s side. 

“Too bad you can’t join me?”

“Dinner will be here in an hour, and I need to check in with Lucius before then. Will you be alright? Can I get you anything?”

“I’d love some juice...”

“I’ll check the bar, but I did order you some. I brought a tin canister of your ginger tea in my traveling bag. I could make you a cup, if you’d like?”

“That would be great.”

Bruce stood and leant over, kissing the top of Faith’s head softly. 

“Consider it done.”

Sighing in contentment, Faith laid back against then back of the tub...her eyes drifting close as she settled into a wonderful state of relaxation. After a while she heard a knock coming from somewhere and Bruce talking to someone. When she opened her eyes, there was a cup of tea next to her, and she smiled in awe at the fact that she hadn’t even heard Bruce come back into the bathroom—

Taking a measured sip, Faith sighed and then took in her surroundings—shaking her head in disbelief. Three months ago? She was on her motorcycle leaving Cleveland for the last time. She’d packed her backpack with her most treasured possessions, and had the rest sent on ahead. What she hadn’t told anyone, including Giles and Buffy, was that once their job in Gotham was over, she was planning on hitting the road for parts unknown. She hadn’t decided where, or even how that would work. She had a little money, from her time at Simitar. It was about ten thousand dollars...and would be enough to resettle somewhere new. 

Now she had 200 billion dollars, a new apartment, boyfriend and a baby on the way. 

_Not what she’d planned for three months ago._

Bruce peered in just then and said deeply, “Dinner is here.”

“M’kay. I’ll be out in a minute.”

He nodded and left, leaving Faith to get out of the tub, grab a towel and dry off. 

She wandered out a few moments later wrapped in a Turkish bathrobe that was nicer than anything she’d ever owned, prior to three months ago. 

“This thing has got to be more expensive than my leather pants.” 

Bruce smirked, holding her chair out for her and kissing her cheek for good measure as she sat down. 

“You like it?”

“What’s not to like? It’s fluffy.”

He chuckled. “You’re adorable.”

“What did you get?”

“There’s Coconut Red Curry and Fontina Alfredo.”

Bruce lifted the serving dish off each of the offerings, and watched as Faith sniffed them carefully. Thankfully, neither one seemed to be offensive, and she pointed to the Curry, which surprised him. 

“Have you ever had curry before?”

Shaking her head, Faith took a small bite of the curry and chewed it, her face making a cute moue of contemplation before she shook her head in the negative. 

Swirling a bit of the fontina Alfredo onto his fork, Bruce offered it to his girlfriend. Faith took it in her mouth with a wary look, but as she chewed it her eyes lit up with relief. 

“That one.”

Chuckling softly...Bruce handed over the Alfredo and took the curry for himself. 

After a bit, Faith wiped her mouth, taking a sip of her juice and asked, “Tell me about Eden van der Woodsen.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you know her well?”

“I know Eden’s parents quite well. Her father William, went to Yale, attended medical school a few years behind my Dad. Lily, Eden’s mother and my Mom were friends.”

“How old is Eden?”

“Twenty-nine.” Bruce clarified. “Erik, is the second child and he’s at Brown right now. He’s twenty-two, and Serena is seventeen.”

“Old money?”

“You’re starting to sound like Roger, but in Lily’s case—yes. Her mother was an Astor, her father a Cabot.”

“How rich we talking?”

“In Lily’s case, she’s probably worth ten billion. She inherited a third of the family estate along with her two older brothers. William van der Woodsen is worth about half his wife’s net worth. The Waldorf family is somewhere in the same range as Lily. Blair’s on-off again boyfriend, Chuck Bass—his net worth is closer to mine. His Father, Bart however? At least twice my net worth.”

Faith cocked an amused eyebrow. “So, these are the Richie Rich’s of New York society?”

“Yes.”

“Joy. At least Blair and Clarissa seemed okay.”

“John Daggett dated Clarissa briefly, back in school. She’s a couple years older than Eden.”

“Shit. More drama.”

“No. Clarissa is happily dating some European Count.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, Gorgeous.”

“It’s like a fucking soap opera!”

Bruce snickered and nodded in agreement. 

“You have _no_ idea.”

“Do people suspect how much money the Romanov fortune is worth?”

“I honestly don’t think anyone has a clue, Gorgeous...and as much as I’d like to keep it that way, they’ll probably figure it out before too long.” Bruce admitted lowly. “Speculation was around 50 billion, realistically. Even that amount is on another level than what a good majority of the New York elite are worth.”

“It’s crazy.” 

“I know it feels that way.”

“Do you ever get used to it?”

“Well, it’s all I’ve ever known, Gorgeous. For those you’ll meet this weekend, it’s all they’ve ever known as well. Many of them do wonderful charitable work and share their largesse with those less fortunate, but many don’t.”

“It would be nice to do some good.”

“And you will. Natalia seemed eager to come and meet with you?”

“She did. She’ll be here day after tomorrow for the event that Yevgeny is hosting.”

“At the old Russian Samovar?”

“Yes. Apparently the owners were beyond excited when Yevgeny contacted him and asked to hold the event there.”

“I can just imagine.” Bruce mused fondly. “I’m sure it’ll be all over Page Six.”

“Oh...joy.”

Once dinner was finished, Faith excused herself to go and get ready for their excursion into Soho, while Bruce freshened up in the separate bathroom in the adjacent room. 

When he came out dressed in his charcoal Armani suit, maroon tie and white dress shirt, he was putting his Jaeger-LeCoultre watch back on, when his girlfriend walked back into the room and he stopped dead in his tracks—

Taking in the exquisite vision in front of him. 

“Damn, I’m a _lucky_ man.”

Faith lifted her head up and smiled widely at him, causing Bruce to move over behind her and inhale her signature smell of musk, vanilla and spice. 

“Are you sure we need to go out tonight?” He whispered seductively into Faith’s ear. 

“We did agree to go,” Faith supplied, in a more composed tone than she felt at the moment. “Are we going by ourselves?”

“No, Clarissa and Blair have the hotel car waiting for us so we can all go together.”

“Then we shouldn’t keep them waiting, right?”

“Fine,” Bruce capitulated, “but when we get back here, I fully intend on taking advantage of you.”

“Deal.”

His eyes perused her form again and he commented sincerely, “This is a new outfit, and I like the leather.”

“It’s a different color than I’ve ever worn, but I liked it and Annette picked out the leather cuffs for an accent. It’s classy, but edgy too.”

“Well, you are gorgeous as always, and I have no doubt you’ll outshine all the other women there tonight.”

“Including your ex?”

“Faith...Eden is _not_ an ex anything. We had sex one night, about nine months ago?”

“And?”

“I enjoyed it. Didn’t rock my world though.”

Faith turned within Bruce’s embrace and ran her hands along his suit lapels, before settling them on his shoulders. Her eyes were done in that dramatic, smokey look he appreciated, and her hair was up off her neck again. The black, onyx and silver costume earrings that were dangling to her mid neck were a nice touch. 

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Bruce smirked, “the only woman who’s ever rocked my world, is the one standing in front of me.”

“Good answer.”

“I thought so, too.” He glanced around and frowned slightly. “Aren’t you going to bring a jacket?”

Faith shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on it, why?”

“Just wondering. I don’t want you to catch cold and sometimes, galleries can be a bit on the cool side.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Besides, if I get chilly you can warm me up, right?”

Bruce kissed the tip of her nose and replied teasingly, “Count on it.”

When they initially got into the elevator, they were alone—but as it moved down the several flights towards the lobby—more people got inside. On the fourth floor, an elderly couple moved inside, and they both halted in their tracks when they'd noticed Faith. 

“O bozhe! YA ne mogu poverit' v eto!”

(Oh my! I can’t believe it!) The woman spoke up, her excitement evident, causing everyone in the elevator to turn and stare at her. 

Faith smiled kindly at them and replied, “Dobryy vecher vam oboim.”

(Good evening to you both)

“Vasha milost'! Dlya nas eto bol'shaya chest'!”

(Your Grace, we are so honored!) The man offered reverently, bowing formally. 

“Spasibo, kak vas zovut?”

(Thank you, what are your names?)

The elevator door opened and Bruce gestured for everyone to disembark before them, and as they moved out into the hotel foyer, a small group had started to gather. The Russian couple, who were walking alongside them, halted as the gentlemen replied, “YA Gregor Yagudin, a eto moya zhena, Mariya.”

(I am Gregor Yagudin, and this is my wife, Maria)

“Priyatno poznakomit'sya s vami oboimi.”

(It’s lovely to meet you both) Faith offered, and then gestured to Bruce. 

“Eto moy paren,' Bryus Ueyn.”

(This is my boyfriend, Bruce Wayne)

Bruce held out his hand for the older man to shake, and then kissed the woman’s hand like the gentleman he was—causing her to blush and smile widely. 

Blair and Lari had wandered over just then, and were watching the scene unfold with curiosity. 

“Ty otsyuda ili ty v gostyakh?” Faith inquired.

(Are you from here, or are you visiting?)

“V gostyakh u docheri. My zhivem v Moskve i cherez nedelyu vernemsya domoy.” Gregor answered. 

(Visiting our daughter. We live in Moscow and will be returning home in a week)

“Vy znakomy s russkoy komnatoy "Samovar" zdes', v N'yu-Yorke?”

(Are you familiar with the Samovar Russian Room, here in New York?)

“Da, my byli tam.”

(Yes, we’ve been there.)

So, Faith went on to explain, about the event that would be held there in a few days time, and gave the couple Yevgeny’s name and contact information. They were beyond thrilled, and when they finally parted...Faith gave each of them the informal Russian kiss on the cheeks—and was profoundly touched—when Maria cupped her cheek tenderly and said, “Eto takoye schast'ye, chto ty vernulsya k nam!”

(It is such a blessing to have you returned to us!)

“Spasibo.”

When the couple departed, Bruce couldn’t help but notice that they were now surrounded by many gawkers—who were either smiling, pointing or whispering amongst themselves. Clarissa and Blair moved over and quickly escorted them outside, as Blair whispered lowly, “They seemed genuinely thrilled.”

“They were.” Faith nodded. “It’s definitely still something I’m trying to come to terms with.”

“I can’t _imagine_ ,” Blair said sympathetically, nodding at their driver as she slid into the limousine after her sister. Bruce helped Faith inside, ignoring the flashes from the paparazzi that had congregated on the sidewalk—immediately moving in after her. 

Leaving the hotel, the drive to Lower Manhattan didn’t take more than thirty minutes and when they arrived, the entrance to the gallery had its own plethora of reporters and paparazzi too. 

Clarissa and Blair offered to go first, and as they emerged from the limo, Faith could hear many of the vultures calling out Blair’s name, in particular. Bruce then slid out the open doorway, and Faith flinched back as the clicks and shutters of the camera flashes all went off almost simultaneously. 

Then she saw Bruce holding his hand out, and the second she gripped it—

...it was fucking _bedlam_...

Faith didn’t think she’d ever in her life, wanted to smash something as much as she wanted to do to the slew of annoying reporters that were literally screaming her name and clambering for a shot. 

Thankfully, Bruce was there. He wrapped his strong arm around her waist and led her into the gallery—his expression fierce and forbidding.

The second they stepped foot into the gallery however, every eye turned to them and it took all of Faith’s resolve not to react to the stares and whispers. 

“Blair!”

Faith turned to a decidedly feminine voice and was brought up short by a leggy blonde who looked to be about Blair’s age...but was probably the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. 

“Serena!”

Jaw clenching, Faith had to wonder if this was the younger sister of the woman Bruce had fucked not too long ago. 

If the sister was this smoking?

Shaking her head, Faith watched as Blair embraced the blonde, and then led her over to make the proper introductions. 

“Bruce, you remember Serena?”

“Yes,” he nodded and smiled politely, “how are you Serena?”

“I’m doing well.” 

The young girl smiled widely, and Faith really wanted to smash something. 

“Serena,” Blair gestured to Faith, “this is Her Grace, the Grand Duchess Nickolayevna.”

Serena curtsied perfectly, her expression now beaming. “It is lovely to meet you, Your Grace.”

“Thank you.”

“How long are you here in New York?”

“Just through the weekend. We’re here for the climate conference.”

“Ah, my Dad is attending that too.”

“How is William these days?” Bruce asked.

“Busy as always.”

“And your Mother?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be along at some point tonight.”

“Then I’ll have to make it a point to say _hello_.”

Serena was about to reply, when a husky voice interrupted her. 

“ _Hello_ , Bruce.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Bruce noticed Eden walking over towards their group. He could feel Faith stiffen slightly against him, and he internally groaned at the fact that Eden had changed her appearance...

She was now back to her original blonde locks...

 _Shit_...

“Hello, Eden.”

His words of greeting were banal, but as Eden came into Faith’s periphery, Bruce could see the surprise on the elder van der Woodsen’s face. 

Both Blair and Serena were grinning like sharks smelling blood in the water...

Faith however, didn’t react at all. Her expression was completely devoid of all emotion, almost exactly as it had been the night of Harvey’s fundraiser. 

He pulled her a bit more firmly into his side, the motion not missed by any of the eagle eyed socialites.

“I didn’t know you were in town.”

“We are here to attend the climate conference, but Blair insisted we join her this evening. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” The blue eyed woman smiled disingenuously, and then her glittering eyes fell to Faith. “Won’t you introduce us?”

“Of course.” Bruce replied politely. “Eden, this is my girlfriend, Faith Lehane—the Grand Duchess Nickolayevna. Gorgeous, this is, Eden van der Woodsen.”

“Pleasure.” Faith purred throatily, while Eden’s gaze had narrowed infinitesimally at the word _girlfriend_. 

“Miss Lehane.”

Where Serena had used Faith’s formal title and curtsied respectfully, apparently her older sister didn’t feel so inclined to offer Faith that same deference. A fact that was noted by both Waldorf sister’s, as Clarissa cleared her throat none too subtly and glared Eden down. 

“It’s _fine_ , Lari.” Faith chuckled in amusement. “I’m sure she meant no disrespect.”

“I wasn’t aware that it was anything more than a cursory title?” 

Eden’s voice was almost too polite now, and Faith felt Bruce stiffen next to her at the slight. 

“Actually, it’s _not_.” Faith parlayed back. “But if you’re _unsure_ , I’d be happy to call my good friend Vladim and you can pose the question directly to him? And I don’t believe that my cousin felt it was a cursory title either, when I spoke with him a while back.”

“Your cousin?”

“Yes. The Duke of Edinburgh? Husband to Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth? He was really down to earth and welcomed me into the family.”

Blair covered her mouth quickly at the strangled giggle that erupted, while Serena folded her arms across her chest and smirked at her older sister. 

“Eden never did pay attention in our European etiquette lessons,” Serena whispered as an aside, “but in her defense, it’s not like she’d ever be invited into those circles.”

“And what about you, Miss van der Woodsen?” Faith quirked an eyebrow, “Do you find those kind of traditions unnecessary?”

“Not at all,” Serena reassured sincerely, “but in my defense, I’m seventeen and my Mother doesn’t allow me to socialize within those circles yet.”

“Smart woman.”

 _“Yes she is.”_

A musical voice echoed behind Faith, and she turned around to see a stunning blonde older woman who could only be _the_ Lily van der Woodsen. Her deep blue eyes considered her older daughter critically, before she turned to Bruce with a radiant smile. 

“Hello, Bruce.”

“Lily, you’re as beautiful as always.”

Bruce let go of Faith briefly as he kissed Lily’s cheeks in greeting, before he reached for her hand again and brought her back into his side. 

“Lily, this is my girlfriend...”

The woman put her hand up and said simply, “Your _Grace_. I’m sure you don’t need anymore stuffy introductions from this one?” 

She tilted her head at Bruce, who grinned and shook his head in amusement. 

“He’s just trying to dust off those rusty lessons that I’m sure his Mother force fed him as a child.”

Lily’s tinkling laughter, was heard over Bruce’s comment of, “Not nice, Gorgeous.”

“It’s true!” Lily winked. “Martha was a stickler for etiquette. She used to complain that Bruce would often run off into the greenhouses with Rachel when it was time for his lessons with Alfred. How is Alfred, by the way?”

“He’s well. Back in Gotham overseeing some construction issues with the Manor rebuild.”

“Ah, yes. Is that why you came tonight? To purchase some art for Wayne Manor?”

“It was Blair’s idea, actually. Faith was impressed with her efforts on the remodeling of the Presidential Suite at the Waldorf, that we’re staying in.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Faith hummed in agreement. “The rooms are warm and welcoming. Kind of homey.”

“Well, our Blair does have a keen eye for fashion of all kinds.”

“Thanks, Auntie.” Blair deadpanned. 

“Perhaps you might allow me to abscond with your lovely paramour, Bruce? I’m sure I could introduce her to several people who would be _most_ welcoming. If I leave it to you, you’ll just keep her all to yourself and that just _wouldn’t_ do.”

“Guilty as charged.” He winked. 

“It’s fine, Krasivyy. I’m more than happy to mingle for a while.” She winked back and warned lightly with amusement, “Stay out of trouble.”

Placing a mock hand over his heart, Bruce replied, “Who, _me?"_

Rolling her eyes for effect, Faith then said to Blair, “You seem like quite the good judge of character, Blair.”

“I am.”

“Good. Maybe you can show Bruce what ideas you might think would look good in the Manor. Make him spend some of his hard earned money.”

“I can do that.”

“And what about you, Gorgeous?”

Faith waved her hand blithely. “I seem to remember you saying something not too long ago about _what’s yours is mine?”_

“I did.”

“Then don’t let me keep you.”

“I _so_ like her.” 

Blair nudged Bruce, who offered his arm with alacrity. Lily did the same for Faith, and the two women sauntered over to another group of people, who were all too eager to meet the new Royal. 

When they were gone, Clarissa sidled up to Eden, who looked fit to be tied. 

“That was **so** uncalled for, Eden.” 

“Shove it, Lari.”

“Eden, you can’t honestly think that Bruce Wayne...”

“And if I _did?"_ She interrupted coldly. 

“Then that’s on you.” Lari chastised. “But just for the record? I’ve known Bruce since we were kids, and I’d always suspected before I saw him again today, that he and Rachel would’ve made a real go of it eventually.”

“She’s _not_ one of us.” Eden hissed. 

“No, but we both know Bruce never really cared about that. I do know for a fact that he was seeing Faith before her heritage became widely known. So, he’s not with her because of whom she is now. And for the record? He all but admitted that she’s it for him.”

Eden turned her head, took in Lari’s severe expression, and her heart fell in defeat. 

“He’s in love with her?”

“Yes. I get the impression he’d marry her tomorrow if he thought she’d agree to it.”

“Bruce? _Marriage?”_ Eden scoffed in disbelief.

“Oh, _yes_.” Lari chuckled. “When I asked him straight up, if she’d managed to land him or the other way around, do you know what he _said?”_

“What?”

“His exact words were, _definitely the other way around.”_

“He actually pursued her?” Eden questioned bitterly. “Is it just me, or is she even more gorgeous in person?”

“That’s Bruce’s nickname for her and trust me, she’s just as beautiful without the accoutrements as she is with. She’s also very approachable and kind. Before we left the hotel, she and Bruce rode down the elevator with a Russian couple from Moscow. You should’ve seen them, Eden. They were _so thrilled_ to meet her.”

“How did she handle it?”

“With such style and aplomb. They were speaking in Russian, so I couldn’t understand the conversation, but it was clear to see the genuine caring and camaraderie there.”

Eden sighed before she said lowly, “I can’t help but feel jealous.”

“I know. Bruce Wayne is _every_ girls dream. But look at him...”

Eden discreetly glanced over Bruce’s way, but his gaze was solely fixated on Faith, who was openly laughing and smiling at something Eden’s mother was telling her. Bruce’s face was completely relaxed—and filled with nothing but raw desire as he stared longingly at his girlfriend.

“He’s got it _bad.”_ Eden admitted. 

“He does.” Lari confirmed. “Bruce Wayne is officially off the market. Don’t be surprised if there’s an engagement announcement before the end of the year.”

Eden turned back to her friend and cocked an eyebrow. 

“That’s rather specific.”

“Maybe.”

“You know something?”

“All I know is what I see. You know Bruce, so tell me? Have you ever known him to look so open and free?”

“No. Moody, cool and controlled.”

“You never did tell me?”

“What?”

“What he’s like?”

Eden sighed. “He’s _amazing._ I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone as...”

Lari’s eyes widened and then she placed her hands about six inches apart and Eden smirked and shook her head—pulling Lari’s hands an inch in either direction. 

“Really?”

“Oh yes, and his girth was just as impressive.”

“Shit!”

“Language!”

Lari blushed. “Sorry.”

“I need to go out and mingle too, before my mother comes over and admonishes me for being a poor hostess at my own event.”

“Go sell some artwork, tiger!”

Eden snorted but left, leaving Clarissa to fend for herself. 

She went to reach for a glass of white wine off a tray, when one appeared right in front of her eyesight. Turning slightly, her gaze widened in surprise at the man standing there smiling down at her. 

“John!”

“Hey, Lari.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Climate conference. But I’d heard about this, and something told me you’d be here.”

They hugged and John placed a swift kiss on her cheek. 

“So? Mind showing me around?”

“Not at all, John.”

The two intermixed with several people there, and after a while they both found themselves approaching Lily and Faith, who were talking with Anne Archibald and her son, Nate.

“Clarissa, darling.” Anne smiled at the young woman, then her eyes moved to John and she nodded politely. “Johnathan. It’s been a while.”

Daggett bowed over Anne’s hand and kissed it, earning him a playful smile from the older woman. He then turned to Lily and repeated the gesture. 

“I can see this is the place where all the loveliest women are hiding away.”

“Flatterer.” Lily admonished without any heat. 

John’s eyes then settled on Faith, and he winked playfully at her. 

“Hello, Faith.”

“John.”

“You two know each other?” Lily inquired with interest. 

“I met John in Gotham,” Faith clarified, “he’s become a good friend.”

Placing his hand over his heart, John bowed his head at the compliment. “You look beautiful as always, Faith. Where is Wayne?”

“He’s around here somewhere.”

“Probably off spending his _billions_.” A dark voice quipped, and all eyes turned around to see two men standing there. The older man who’d spoken, was about six foot, had salt and pepper hair and a handsome chiseled face, while the younger gentleman had slicked back hair, and elegant defined features. 

“Hello, Bart.” Lily smiled, but Faith could tell it didn’t reach her eyes. “What hole did you crawl out from under tonight?”

“Lily, dear. Charming as always.” Bart’s gaze settled on John, dismissing him totally before his piercing eyes moved to Faith and the man’s expression broke out into a predatory grin. 

“Perhaps you might do the _honors_ , Lily?”

Faith could hear Lily’s put upon sigh, but being nothing but a consummate hostess, since her daughter was holding said event, she just smiled disingenuously and said, “My dear, this gentleman is Bart Bass and his son, Chuck Bass. Bart, Chuck—this is Her Grace, The Grand Duchess Nickolayevna.”

Bart moved over and bowed formally, and Faith was surprised to see his son do the same. 

“Your Grace, welcome to New York.”

“Thank you.” Faith replied evenly, before her gaze fell to Chuck Bass. “I do believe your name was mentioned earlier this evening, Mr. Bass.”

“Oh?” 

The young man’s voice was deep and rich, and Faith wanted to roll her eyes at how confident the little fucker was. 

“Yes. I’m staying at the Waldorf with Bruce, and we are here tonight as guests of Lari and Blair.”

Faith noticed Chuck’s expression falter slightly. 

“I should go and find her then.”

“She should be with Bruce.”

Chuck nodded, and excused himself with Nate following, while Bart looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. 

“How long are you in New York for, Your Grace?”

“A few days. We are here for the climate conference and are taking in some of the sights. Yevgeny Grimov was kind enough to offer to host an event this weekend for myself and Bruce at the Samovar Room. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Ah, the Russian Consulate General?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve been welcomed back into the fold?”

“I’m sure the subtly of politics escapes me. I prefer the more _direct_ approach.”

John snickered, causing Faith to shake her head at him. 

“Quiet, John.”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“Guilty.”

Everyone chuckled, including Bart although he didn’t seem very genuine. Then Faith noticed his eyes narrowing at something behind her and she smiled as a firm arm enveloped her waist possessively. 

“Bart.”

“Bruce.”

Faith settled into Bruce’s side, and didn’t miss the pinched expression of the older man. 

Seriously? Did he really think that he was anywhere in the same league as Bruce?

“Did you find anything?” Faith asked.

“A couple things that I’d like to get your input on.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Redecorating Wayne Manor?” Bart quipped with a snake like grin. 

“Yes.”

“Probably would’ve helped if you hadn’t burnt it down in the first place, Bruce.”

Bruce stiffened, while Faith could see how uncomfortable the comment made everyone. 

So she decided to speak up. 

“Don’t you find it _funny_ , how people tend to believe all the garbage that newspapers print?”

Lily cocked an eyebrow, and Anne smiled softly while Bart just gave her a curious look. 

“Anything specific you might be _referring_ to, Your Grace?” Bart asked. 

Faith waved her hand obliquely and replied, “I don’t grade on a curve, but I do know to take what I read with a huge grain of salt. Kinda like assuming that what you read, is the truth. Truth is a funny thing, and I don’t find it _much_ in print.”

“ _Well said,_ my dear.” Lily lifted her wine glass in agreement. 

“So when the papers were speculating about the Romanov fortune, there wasn’t much _truth_ in that?” Bart challenged, and Faith could see the shock on everyone’s faces...but there was also a deep underlying curiosity there. 

She glanced up at Bruce, who’s expression was surprisingly, smug and she giggled softly. 

“And what did they say, Krasivyy? I just can’t remember.”

“I think they estimated the Romanov fortune to be somewhere in the 50-100 billion range.”

“Ah, that’s right.” Faith nodded and then turned her hard gaze to Bart Bass. Her face then morphed into a wicked grin as she bit back, “See, not even _close_.”

Faith could feel the weighted stares of everyone, but her gaze was solely fixated on Bart Bass, and she watched his expression closely as he considered her for a few moments. He was looking for any sign of weakness, or subterfuge on her part and finding none, his face broke out into a triumphant smile. 

“I didn’t think it would’ve been even close to that.”

“It wasn’t,” Faith shrugged. “But then again, I don’t think it matters much. Money brings out the best or worst in people, depending on which way they lean.”

“This is true.” Lily nodded sagely, her blue eye sparkling with glee. “And on that caveat alone, Bart would have to be the richest, worst one of the lot. Right Bart?”

“Remind me again, Lily—why did our father’s think it was a good idea we get engaged all those years ago?”

“Because my Father was an idiot,” She snarked out honestly, “and thankfully, my Mother brought him to his senses. Besides, Bart—you were too young and immature for me.”

“A five year age difference isn’t that big of a deal, and it’s not my fault that my father tried to arrange a marriage for me before I even got out of high school.”

“Hadn’t you just _started_ high school, Bart?” Anne quipped.

“Semantics.” Bart deadpanned. “Anything to increase the large family coffers.”

“Bart likes to think he’s the richest one in any room.” John snarked, earning a sneer from the older man. 

“ _Why_ are you here, John? I didn’t realize you were even welcome.”

“Not by you, old man. I just came for the free booze.”

Faith giggled again, and Lari shook her head at her former boyfriend. 

“Must you antagonize him?”

“Good sport.” John mocked. “Besides, if I’m right? He’s no longer the richest one in the room.”

John side-eyed Faith, who rolled her eyes at him.

“How did this get put back on me, again?”

“Inquiring minds, Gorgeous.” Bruce whispered out just loud enough, so everyone could hear him. “It’s like that tape measure, we talked about from before?”

Faith gazed up at Bruce stunned, and then her face beamed into the widest grin he’d ever seen, before rich gales of laughter broke free. 

John snorted and pointed an accusing finger at Bruce, who just looked smugger than fuck. 

Lily, Anne and Lari were all smiling while Bart appeared to be irritated at not getting the private moment. 

“Why do I feel like I’m missing out on a wonderful joke.” Lily pondered aloud. 

“ _Later_.” Faith side-whispered to her and the older woman nodded eagerly. “Maybe you could show me the art work you picked out?”

“Of course.” Bruce kissed her temple sweetly. “If you’ll excuse us?”

Everyone watched Bruce saunter away with Faith, and John just smirked at the two of them. 

“You seem to know her well.” Lily asked, and John nodded. 

“I do.”

“She seems like quite the genuine young woman.”

“She _really_ is.”

“Do I detect a note of _longing_ , John?” Bart queried, with just the perfect inflection of sarcasm. 

“No. We’re just friends. I’m actually seeing someone.”

“Oh!?” Lari breathed out stunned. “Is she here tonight?”

“No, she had to work.”

“What does she do, John? Exotic dancer?”

“No, Bart,” John’s voice came out cold and dangerous, “She works overseas. Runs a private security firm out of London.”

“Would I know it?”

“Doubtful.” John prevaricated. “Faith worked for the same firm, before she discovered her heritage.”

“And just how did that happen?” Anne asked.

“I’m not sure exactly, although if I had to guess? It was the night I first met Faith at a fundraiser I threw at the Gotham Museum. She was Wayne’s date. She was wearing her Great-Grandmother’s necklace and I think Sergei Nemerov, the head of the Moscow Ballet, must’ve recognized it. There is a portrait in the Hermitage...”

“I’ve seen it.” Lily nodded. “And now that I’ve seen her in person, the resemblance is very clear.”

John then turned to Bass and said lowly, “And bringing up her fortune was a _dick_ move, Bass.”

“Why?” The man challenged. “If she’s truly as wealthy as all the papers are speculating, what does she have to hide?”

“She doesn’t,” John admonished, “but I do know Wayne, and he does know what her likely net worth is. If I had to hazard a guess? The papers were off by at least half.”

“So only 25 billion then?” 

Bart’s smug look was back, but John just chuckled and shook his head in the negative. 

“No, they estimated 50-100 billion, right?”

Bart nodded. 

“Double the high end, and I’m thinking it’s closer to that.”

Everyone hissed out in shock, as Lily placed a hand over her heart in wonder. 

“That’s...”

“Mind you all, it’s just a working theory,” He warned, “But Czar Nicholas was rumored to have invested nearly a third of his net wealth before his death in overseas markets. The Romanov’s were the wealthiest of all the Royal Houses and were said to be worth close to a half-billion dollars in those days. In today’s dollars that 50 billion, easily. If even 100 million was invested in 1917, and they came through the depression of the 30’s relatively unscathed? Financial forecast models predicts that the Romanov net worth today, would be just above the 200 billion dollar range.”

“Shit.” 

Bart swallowed, his gaze moving throughout the room until he landed where the young Romanov Heiress was standing—gazing up at Bruce Wayne like he hung the moon. 

“He’s going to _marry_ her.”

“Yes.” John admitted. “He’s already indicated as such, although he hasn’t asked her formally, yet. Premier Vladim has extended a formal invitation to Faith to return to Russia for Unity Day in November. She will officially, be welcomed back home with open arms, as is her right. The Royals from all over Europe will be invited, of that I have no doubt. She’s already been welcomed into the family by the Queen and Prince Phillip. My guess? He’ll propose then.”

Everyone whipped their heads over to John, but he just took a measured sip of his wine, his blue eyes smiling with mirth. 

“And her _answer_?”

“She hasn’t given him any indication one way or the other, and she **won’t** —until the minute he gets down on one knee and asks.”

Bart chuckled deeply. “Smart woman.”

“Much smarter than she lets on.” John quipped. “And _nobody’s_ fool.” 

Clarissa sighed. “You _know_ , don’t you?”

John looked down at Lari, and his eyes widened in surprise. 

“ _They told you?”_

“Blair guessed. You know how she has a sixth sense for stuff like this.”

“Shit.” 

John shook his head, while everyone just stared at them eagerly. 

“What did my niece figure out?” Lily demanded. 

“It’s not my place to say, Auntie.”

Lily glanced over to the young couple across the room, and at that moment the waiter came by to offer wine. Bruce took a glass, but Faith shook her head no. In that instant, her hand went reflexively to her stomach and Lily saw the quick flash of concern on Bruce’s face, as his hand covered Faith’s briefly—

—and she hissed out a shocked breath of awe. 

“She’s _pregnant_.”

The words were spoken so quietly, but obviously not quietly enough...

Because the reaction on everyone’s face was visceral at the implications of what that meant. 

Lily turned questioningly to Clarissa, then John. When neither one spoke up, her eyes drifted to Anne and then to Bart. 

“A _Romanov_ Heir.” Bart hummed out thoughtfully. “And a Wayne Heir.”

“How far along?” Lily asked curiously, but John shrugged. 

“Look, I’d be very careful with this information. If this gets out, Wayne will not be happy, but that is secondary to what Faith will do. She has _resources_ , and is not afraid to employ them if someone tries to hurt Bruce or their child. As formidable as Wayne is? He’s nothing compared to Faith.”

“You make her sound like some kind of warrior.”

John smirked, his expression clear and unmistakable as he purred out, “ _Exactly_.”

Bart took in John’s demeanor, and he knew enough of the other man’s background to know that he’d served in the military and had been no slouch in that department. Which meant that Faith Lehane was likely as formidable as John was warning she was. 

He moved over and discreetly took John aside. 

“She worked for a private security firm, you said?”

“Yes.”

“Government?”

“Are you familiar with Wolfram and Hart?”

By the way Bart’s face paled, John was fairly certain the man had at least, some peripheral idea what they were about. 

“Shadow organization. _Highly feared.”_

“Yes.”

“Are you trying to tell me that...”

“I’m not trying to tell you anything, Bart. I’m _warning_ you. There’s a difference.”

Sharp grey eyes turned back to Faith, with a new appreciative gleam behind his gaze. 

“No wonder Wayne snatched her up.”

“Yes.”

“And your girlfriend?”

_“Yes.”_

“Shit.”

“Bart, we don’t like each other but I do respect your business acumen. There may come a time in the very near future, that I might require your help with a joint business venture.”

“And who is the mark?”

“This one is personal.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Someone went after my family. I know you can appreciate what kind of feelings that might invoke. If it were Chuck?”

“I’d _destroy_ them.”

“Then you can relate.”

“Is this about Zacharias?”

“Yes.”

Bart nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve always respected what you’ve done for that young man. Taking him in like you did.”

“I made a promise.”

“One you intend to keep?”

“Yes.”

“By any means necessary?”

“What do you think?”

“I think,” Bart smirked, “that I might’ve severely underestimated you, John.”

  



	53. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith comes to a startling realization and Bruce makes his intentions known.

It was around six am the next morning that Faith woke up to the sensation of Bruce lapping at her core from underneath their sheets. She arched her back, gripped her hands into his thick hair and proceeded to enjoy the ride. 

A favor she wholeheartedly returned in the shower about an hour later...

At breakfast, Bruce was reading through the local paper, and handed her the society page where sure enough...there was a large picture of the both of them—walking into EdenSquare with speculation that they were in town for the climate conference. 

“Nice photo.” Faith snarked, setting down the paper as a knock sounded on their door. 

Bruce stood up and went to answer it, nodding to Roger as he entered.

“Good morning.”

“It _was_.” Faith pouted, and Roger just shook his head at her. 

“We have a schedule to keep, my dear.”

Don’t remind me? I was living in a state of complete denial before you walked through the door.”

“Something tells me you’ve done that quite a bit, young lady.”

“Ouch!” Faith choked out an affronted gasp. “That’s _rude_.”

“Yet true.”

“Whatever.”

Bruce sat back down, watching the scene unfold with thinly-veiled amusement. 

“What’s on the agenda for today, oh, Jedi Master?”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Miss Lehane.”

“ _Not in my world.”_

Bruce snickered, earning heated looks from both individuals...but he just flipped the business section open and hid.

“Coward.” Faith muttered, before she took a sip of her ginger tea and said briskly, “How bad is it going to be?”

“I thought you didn’t grade on a curve?” Bruce quipped from behind his paper, causing Faith to cock an irritated eyebrow, while Roger just poured himself a cuppa and ignored her pointed stare-down. 

“I received several calls last night and this morning. First, you’ve been invited to afternoon tea today at Lily van der Woodsen’s home.”

“Would it be a no-no to ask if Bruce’s previous _fuck-buddy_ will be in attendance?”

“Miss Lehane, please _refrain_ from using that kind of language in my presence.” Roger took a sip of his tea, while Faith pouted noticeably. “However, to answer your question—yes, it would be considered an affront to ask for the guest list ahead of time.”

“Great.”

“Secondly, Lady Grovers will be coming in this evening, in preparation for the event tomorrow night at the Samovar. She is bringing her mother, who is most anxious to meet with you.”

“Her Mom?”

“Yes, she is the Niece of your prapraded Nicholas. She was born several years after her mother, Xenia escaped to London. She has some gifts for you that she wishes to pass on.”

Bruce flipped the paper down, his expression thoughtful. 

“Wouldn’t she save those for her own daughter?”

“I don’t know that particulars actually, but Zarina was most emphatic these were to be given to you, Miss Lehane.”

“Okay.”

“They are staying here, of course—and wish to dine with you in the morning around nine.”

“In our suite?”

“They didn’t specify.”

Faith glanced over to Bruce and he shrugged. “I don’t think there’s an etiquette demand that I’m aware of, Gorgeous...but it might be a good idea to see if you can get a private table in the formal dining room.”

“Can you handle that?”

“Of course, Miss Lehane.”

“Good, thanks.”

Roger nodded and then flipped through his planner. 

“Miss Blair Waldorf sent word first thing this morning, that she would hope you’d be open to attending her today.”

“With what?”

“She and her sister, along with Miss Serena van der Woodsen, will be visiting several interior design houses looking for antiques, furniture and accessories for the hotel remodeling.”

“She mentioned it to me last night, and I’d thought you might enjoy going with them. You could look for some things for Wayne Manor while you’re out.”

Faith sat back and narrowed her gaze at Bruce. 

“You’re being kinda _pushy_.”

“No, I’m being inclusive, Gorgeous. I want Wayne Manor to feel like a home for us both. We’ve discussed this.”

“And I didn’t agree to anything yet.”

“But you will.”

Faith threw her hands up in frustration. “Roger, we need a moment.”

“Of course.”

Faith watched her secretary leave and the minute the door closed, she rounded on her boyfriend. 

“Are you _trying_ to piss me off?”

“No, that wasn’t my intention. Tell me, Gorgeous? If I had just gone ahead, carte blanche, and done the entire redecorating myself? How would that have made you feel?”

Folding her arms mutinously and biting her lip hard, Faith couldn’t argue that it would’ve made her feel left out...

Like Bruce didn’t value her opinion...

“But we haven’t decided anything yet?”

“ _Haven’t we?”_

“Bruce...”

Hazel eyes bored into hers, and Faith could tell he was rapidly losing patience with her. He stood up and walked over to the French doors, stopping before he moved out onto the open patio—his stance wide—his hands thrusted deeply into the pockets of his slacks. 

His whole entire demeanor screamed _pissed_...

She stood up and followed him, and once behind him—tentatively wrapped her arms around his waist—kissing his back with tenderness. 

“I’m _sorry_.”

Bruce sighed, his body deflating a bit as he turned around and took her into his embrace. He tilted her head up so he could see her face before he said evenly, “Why are you still afraid?”

“I’m not!”

“Oh?”

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not afraid.”

“Then what is it?”

Running her hands over his chest, Faith wasn’t sure what she was feeling at this precise moment. She knew Bruce was her future and she loved him. They were having a child together, so why was she still acting like this?

“Are you _really_ sure?” She asked quietly, and winced when Bruce’s expression darkened in disbelief. 

“Faith...where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know!” She cried, feeling her chest constrict as her hormones started to do that wonky thing they did when she felt backed into a corner. 

“Gorgeous, I’m sure. What do I need to do to show you how committed I am to us?”

Dropping her forehead onto Bruce’s chest, Faith felt the control of her emotions waver as tears began to leak down her cheeks. Bruce just held her, feeling at a loss for why his normally stoic girlfriend, was still doubting him. 

“It’s not you, you’re doubting—is it?” Bruce inquired warily, and Faith shook her head emphatically.

“How could you ask me that?” She sobbed. 

“Because I’m trying to comprehend if this is just an emotional outburst due to pregnancy hormones, or something deeper. If it’s the latter, I want to fix this.”

“Would you think less of me, if I told you I prefer it when it’s just us?”

“Ah, I see where this is coming from. For the record, no—I prefer it too.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“ _Thank God!_ I was so worried that all this nonsense...that you’d expect me to be Lily van der Woodsen. As nice as she seems to be, I’m not that kind of woman, Krasivyy. I don’t want to be!”

Bruce cupped her cheeks and kissed her tenderly. “And I would never expect you to be, Gorgeous. That’s not who you are.” He sighed and then asked seriously. “How much of this has to do with the fact that you haven’t gone out and Slayed anything in weeks?”

Scrunching her face in thought, Faith had to admit that Bruce might’ve hit the nail on the head. 

“Shit.”

“Faith...”

_“I know!”_

Bruce gathered her into his arms and held her fast. “What can I do to fix this? As much as I don’t want you out there in harms way? I don’t want you doing this to yourself either?”

“I don’t want to hurt our baby.”

“I know, Gorgeous. I wish, I had a solution for you.”

Teary dark brown eyes gazed up at him pleadingly, and Bruce felt his heart crack at how utterly vulnerable Faith appeared in this moment. 

“Do you _resent_ me? Our baby?” He whispered out pained, then cracked a slight smirk when Faith pushed at his chest with ire. 

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever said to me, Bruce!”

“Ouch!”

“ _Don’t say it again!”_

“Fine.” 

He grabbed Faith and kissed her breathless, feeling all the anxiety bleed from her as he poured all his emotions into the kiss. When they finally broke apart on a rapid intake of breath, Faith’s eyes glowed with tiny unshed tears. 

“I love you.”

“And I love you, Gorgeous. So much...you have to know that.”

“I do.”

“So? Decorating?”

“If I go, what are you going to get up to today?”

“I got a text from John this morning. He wants to meet to go over a business proposal with Bart Bass.”

“Seriously? You’re going to do business with that pit viper?”

“John or Bart?”

“Nice.”

“I was being serious.”

“I know you were.” Faith shook her head and then said in defeat, “Just be careful. I don’t like that guy.”

“Neither do I.”

“What do they say about business and strange bedfellows?”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“That works too.”

Bruce set Faith down and followed her back into their room, before he opened up his wallet and handed her his Black Amex Card. 

“What’s this?”

“My credit card.”

Faith took one look at it and handed it back. 

“Listen, Wayne? If we are doing this cohabitating thing together? Then I have just as much right to use my own money to buy stuff. I do have my own credit card, you know.”

Bruce smirked. “I know.”

Faith went to pour herself some more juice, when she came to a startling realization. Pointing her right index finger at her boyfriend, she hissed in warning, “If you try and _manipulate_ me like that again, I’m so going to _punish_ you.”

Bruce’s face morphed into a sly smirk, but he wisely chose not to comment. He just put back his credit card into his wallet and stood up, kissing the top of her head as he made his way past, to go find Roger and bring him back. 

“Fucking jerk.” Faith scowled, then clamped her mouth shut as Bruce returned with Roger in tow. 

“Crisis averted?”

“Apparently.”

“So what shall I tell Miss Waldorf?”

“I’d be happy to go!” Faith blurted out with the fakest smile Bruce had ever seen, and he grinned. 

“Roger, can you get Karl on the phone for me?”

“Of course.”

Bruce cocked a curious eyebrow, but didn’t speak as Roger handed Faith over her phone. 

“Hello, My Dear,” Karl’s friendly voice made Faith smile, “What can I do for you today?”

“Apparently, I’m going shopping today. In New York with a bunch of socialites, not that you needed to know that.”

Karl snickered and replied sincerely, “Perhaps not, but it’s amusing.”

“Thanks.” Faith deadpanned. “Anyway, Bruce mentioned you put some money into an account for me, right?”

“I did.”

“And my credit card? Do I have a spending limit?”

“No.”

“Can you set up something where, whatever I purchase on my credit card, just gets paid automatically out of my account?”

“Well, that depends. You currently have the exclusive Coutts card from our affiliate in London. It’s the same merchant card the Royal Family uses.”

“Oh! I didn’t know that.” 

Karl chuckled. “I can have whatever purchases you make, taken out of your interest account here as payment.”

“And how much is in that account?”

“Let me check.” 

Faith could hear Karl typing in the necessary information, and when he came back on the line, he said simply, “There’s currently almost two billion in there...give or take.”

Bruce smirked, when Faith’s eyes widened in shock. 

“I’m sorry? That’s just _interest_?”

“Compounded annually.”

“Holy shit!” 

Bruce broke down into rich laughter, and even Roger was amused. 

Karl however, replied simply, “That’s one way to look at it.”

Faith just shook her head helplessly. 

“Was there anything else, My Dear?”

“I don’t think so.” Faith admitted sheepishly, “I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Young lady, you are never a bother. I understand how overwhelming this must be for you and I’m here to answer any questions you have, understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good, now tell your young man that I expect him to take good care of you.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The line clicked off and Faith set her cell phone down, her hands shaking slightly as she stood up and walked into the bedroom, not noticing Bruce’s sudden look of worry. 

He found her a bit later, as she was finishing getting dressed in her chosen outfit for the day. 

His eyes raked over her form...the creme colored sleeveless blouse fell enticingly between her breasts and the ruched fitted bodice fell to mid hip. The lamb skin chocolate colored leather pants were tighter than sin. Her face was fresh and makeup free, except for a bit of mascara, lip gloss and a smattering of light bronzer across her cheeks. 

Faith grabbed a large pendant necklace and went to put it on, but he reached for it and stepped up behind her, opening the clasp and bringing it around her neck until it nestled right over her exposed sternum. Once closed, their eyes caught in the mirror and Bruce allowed his index finger to hover down the chain, to the deep V of the blouse...then gently pushed it aside as he cupped her exposed breast, while simultaneously nipping her perfumed neck with a soft groan. 

“This is what you’re wearing today?”

“Yes. You don’t like it?”

Gripping her left hip, he pushed Faith back into his substantial erection—letting her feel just how much he didn’t like her choice of attire for the day. He pinched her nipple and growled in his Batman voice tinged with warning, “These are _mine_.”

Her body instinctively arched into Bruce’s possessive touch, and the desperate moan that fell from her lips couldn’t be helped. 

“Bruce...”

“You’re so fucking _perfect_.” He whispered deeply into her ear, even as their eyes locked onto each other again in the mirror’s reflection, and Faith could feel her body’s response at the thought of having Bruce take her just like this. 

It seemed his mind was right there with her, as he cupped both breasts and groaned, “Tonight I want to take you right here, in front of this mirror. Would you like that, Gorgeous?”

“Yes!” She purred, running her hand into his hair from behind. 

Unfortunately, a firm knock on their bedroom door halted any further amorous advances. 

He turned her into his arms and kissed her deeply, pulling her into him as he took ownership of her mouth. It wasn’t until the second knock sounded a bit more forcefully that he broke the kiss with an unhappy sound. 

“Be careful, today.” He whispered, running a finger down her cheek lovingly. 

“I will. Behave yourself.”

“I’ll try.” Bruce winked, allowing his girlfriend to grab her matching leather jacket and small Louis Vuitton purse he’d purchased for her, while he got his body’s reactions a bit more under control. “You have everything? Phone, wallet, room key?”

“Yes.”

“Text me when you get where you’re going.” He demanded, readjusting her blouse and covering her more appropriately. 

“I promise.”

Bruce nodded one final time and then escorted her out of their room, to the smiling faces of Blair, Serena and Clarissa. 

Even Roger seemed amused. 

“There you are!” Blair teased. “I was almost going to send in a search party.”

“No need,” Bruce bantered back, kissing Faith on the temple, “she’s yours for the day.”

The girls watched as Bruce cupped Faith’s cheeks and kissed her softly in parting. 

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Don’t worry so much, Krasivyy. You’ll get wrinkles on your pretty face.”

He smirked but let her go, and Faith could feel his gaze burning into her back long after she exited their room. 

Once in the elevator, Blair fanned herself theatrically. 

“Damn, he’s got it _bad!"_

Faith shook her head, but both Serena and Lari were nodding emphatically. 

“You’re as bad as two other young women I know. In fact, I think you’d all get along great.”

“What are their names?”

“Violet and Rona. They’re back in Gotham right now.”

“Friends?”

“More like little sisters. Annoying and completely have no respect for boundaries.”

“Ooh, sound like my kind of girls!” Blair winked, before she took in Faith’s ensemble. “I’m surprised Bruce let you out looking like that!”

Faith glanced down at her attire and frowned slightly. 

“Is something wrong?”

“No! You’re a stone cold goddess.”

“Well, I’ve never been called that one before.” Faith admitted with a smirk. “So where are we off to?”

“Pippin in Chelsea first, then we’ll wind our way down to High Style Deco at the end. Lots of good stuff to get through.” 

They’d all made their way into the limo, Faith ignoring the pointed stares and whispers of everyone they passed in the lobby. Once they were on their way, Faith spoke up...

“You know, I didn’t even think to ask Bruce how many rooms Wayne Manor has.”

“Do you know what’s he’s purchased so far?”

“Not a clue,” Faith admitted with a beleaguered sigh, “hold on...”

She pulled out her phone and texted Bruce...

... _What things have you already gotten?_

It wasn’t but a minute before he replied back with...

**Honestly? The artwork I purchased last night...**

Faith stared at her phone in shock. 

_Please tell me you’re joking..._

**Does stuff for my hobbies count?**

Faith cracked a grin. 

_I’d like to say no, but I’d be lying if I wasn’t impressed with your dedication..._

**I’m dedicated to making sure you have the home of your dreams. Buy whatever your heart desires. I’m sure I’ll love it!**

Fuck!

Taking a deep breath to stem those fucking traitorous hormones from erupting...Faith texted back...

_Dungeon?_

It was several minutes before that one got a response...

**What exactly did you have in mind, Gorgeous?**

_Playroom...toys...four poster bed...I could tie you up better..._

Faith waited with bated breath until the next ding sounded. What she read, had her smiling like a fool. 

**I’m calling my contractor as soon as we get off the phone. Get whatever you want...**

_You might regret saying that, Krasivyy..._

**I sincerely doubt it, Gorgeous...love you**

_I love you too..._

Faith put her phone back in her purse, her smile still plastered on her pretty face. When she looked up, it was to three sets of eyes that were staring at her with amusement, curiosity and...

...delight...

“You know?” Clarissa piped up, “Watching Bruce last night, I have to say? I’ve never seen him look so happy.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes! He’s affectionately called Mr. Cool, by most of the socialites in our circles. Can I be honest?”

“Sure.”

“I do know Rachel. We were at NYU at the same time.”

“I thought you went to school with John?

“Harvard MBA.”

“Ah! That makes sense.”

“I knew about Bruce and Rachel’s history. She was a few years ahead of me in school. We were in the same sorority, and Bruce did visit her a bit during undergrad.”

“He told me they’d broken up after high school.”

“They did. But it didn’t stop the longing looks on both their parts whenever they were together in the same room. When Bruce disappeared, Rachel told me what happened. Why he’d left. When he came back, I’d assumed that they’d figure it out eventually, but for whatever reason, it wasn’t meant to be and now I know why.”

“And that is?”

“Bruce was waiting for you.”

Faith sat back stunned, unsure of how to respond to that.

“I know it sounds corny, but I think he was waiting for someone he could truly be himself with. Bruce is probably the most complicated man I’ve ever known, and that includes John.”

“You two dated, right?”

“For a year at Harvard. We were in the same MBA Program together. He got a direct in from undergrad. He started a bit later due to serving in the military. Between his GI Bill and his scholarships, it paid for nearly all his undergrad.”

“That’s impressive. He’d mentioned a bit of his background to me.”

“You two seemed fairly friendly last night.”

“Well, it’s kind of a funny story.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Faith smirked. “When I first started seeing Bruce, we didn’t exactly get together under normal circumstances. I’d guessed about his thing with Rachel, and I wasn’t looking for a relationship of any kind.”

All three women smiled and sat forward, their faces burning with curiosity. 

“So you were using him for sex?” Blair quipped and Faith nodded. 

“Yes. He’s quite talented.”

“So I’ve heard.” Serena rolled her eyes in disgust. 

“Your sister?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, Bruce told me. It’s unrealistic to expect a man like Bruce to remain celibate.”

“That would be a waste.” Blair mocked, and they all giggled like mad...nodding in agreement. 

“Anyway, I met John at a Gotham fundraiser. Bruce and I had a disagreement that night about Rachel, so I left with John.”

“You go girl!” Blair cheered. 

“John asked me out, and I gave him my number. I was pissed at Bruce. I accused him of using me to make Rachel jealous.”

“And was he?” Clarissa frowned.

“Maybe? I don’t think Bruce realized it until that night, that he was holding onto something that didn’t work anymore. They are best friends and they love each other, it’s true. But Bruce isn’t the same man he was when they were kids, and Rachel isn’t the same woman. They want different things, and after I left? He followed me home and apologized. Threatened to go all corporate raider on John’s ass on my voicemail, if I’d gone home with him. We’ve been together ever since.”

All three women sighed like a group of lovesick fools. 

“Did you save the message?” Blair queried smartly, and Faith just gave her an appreciative look. 

“You’re _too_ observant.”

“I know, it’s a curse.”

Faith took out her phone and dialed her voicemail...and Bruce’s voice filtered through the back of the limo...

_**Faith...please pick up. I’m so, so sorry. I need to talk to you. Please pick up. I’m on my way to your apartment and I swear to God, if you’re not there and off somewhere with Daggett? I’m going to go all corporate raider and buy his company and then ruin the man. I’m an idiot. And a fool. And so many other things, but would you just pick up your fucking phone and talk to me? Or better yet, call me?** _

Faith clicked the end button and smiled at how desperate Bruce had sounded that night and when she gazed up at her new group of whatever they were...they were all staring at her gobsmacked...

“Shit!” Serena threw her head back on the seat and fanned her face with both hands. “I think I just _came_.”

Faith snorted out a guffaw, and then they all dissolved into hysterical laughter.   
  
After a few moments, and a bit more control, Clarissa nodded in satisfaction. 

“John mentioned last night that Bruce has mentioned marriage.”

“That shit-head!”

“Yeah, that’s John for you, but in his defense—he’d said that you haven’t given Bruce any indication one way or the other.”

“Not exactly. We got into another conversation about it this morning, when he’d mentioned this outing today and decorating for Wayne Manor. I didn’t handle it well at all.”

“Why?”

“Because for all my new found heritage, I’m not a socialite...no offense.”

“None taken.” Blair reassured. “This life, we’ve all grown up in it. Wealth, privilege, status. On the outside it looks glamorous and easy, and I suppose it is to an extent. But sometimes, it’s about finding that person who can brave the good and the bad with you.”

“Do you have that with Chuck?”

Blair shrugged. “He’s it for me. Always will be, even if I won’t admit it to him yet. He’s so used to having things his own way. So used to being in control and having everyone defer to him. Yet, he’s not willing to do that for me.”

Faith sat back in contemplation.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. He wants to control everything. He likes playing games, and I do too. We both are good at reading people and seeing what other people don’t want us to see, but with Chuck? He treats our relationship like another game and not like I’m his forever partner. He keeps things from me. Says it’s for my protection.”

“He doesn’t treat you like an equal.”

“No.”

“I’m so sorry, Blair.”

“That’s why I ended it. He was pissed but needs to decide if this with me, is worth the necessary compromise. Sometimes, you have to let go, to get back.”

Faith’s eyes widened in stunned realization, as she whispered out a pained, “Fuck!”

“What?”

“I think our dear Faith has just had her own epiphany.” Lari clarified. “Bruce has done all that and then some, hasn’t he?”

Faith nodded, wiping a stray tear as it fell down her cheek. 

How had she not seen it?

How had she not noticed and listened when everyone had told her that Bruce was different with her...that he had changed from the moody, broody, closed off isolated man to the loving, willing partner he was now. 

He’d moved completely out of his comfort zone for her. 

That was why he’d been so pissed and hurt by her attitude this morning!

She reached for her phone, and sent off a quick text...

_I’m so sorry..._

It wasn’t even thirty seconds when her phone dinged...

**For what?**

Her fingers flew over her keys as she typed out...

_For not seeing how much you’ve moved out of your comfort zone for me. For treating me as your equal..._

She jumped slightly when her phone rang...

Answering it with a shaky breath, Faith tried to ignore the other people in the car with her, as Bruce’s husky voice came over the line, “You’ve just realized it, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Blair?”

“Yes.”

Bruce chuckled. “I might owe her a gift or three.”

“I’ll tell her.”

“Gorgeous?”

“Yeah?”

“ _Tomorrow_.”

Faith hitched her breath at what Bruce was saying, suggesting, promising—

They didn’t need any other word spoken between them other than...

“Tomorrow.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

When Faith hung up her phone, she stared down at it lost in thought. It wasn’t long before Blair asked, “Everything okay?”

Nodding sincerely, Faith replied, “Five by five. Let’s go find some stuff!”

“Now she’s talking! Who wants champagne? Well, you can’t have any Faith, so I brought OJ!”

“I like you, Blair.”

“What’s not to like?”

They’d all laughed, and went about enjoying their day. Faith spent more money than she’d ever dreamt of and sent pictures to Bruce throughout the morning and into the early afternoon, asking his opinion on items she wasn’t quite sure of. By the time they’d made it to Lily’s home...Faith was exhausted and famished—not to mentioned shell shocked by the amount of money she’d spent. Every time her charge card went through, she’d wanted to cringe. 

The store keepers were thrilled to work with her, and Blair had given her suggestions for what pieces would go with what accessories and accents. Faith found she had a knack for putting different styles together, and Blair had even commented on the fact that she had a good eye for detail. 

The fact that she’d spent nearly six million dollars on furniture should’ve filled her with a sense of dread, but all Faith felt oddly, was excited anticipation. This was her future she was shopping for. As she came upon an antique cradle in the last store they’d stopped in, she’d gazed at it with longing. 

But as much as she’d wanted it, she knew the second she bought it? 

Her pregnancy would most likely be outed. 

So she’d left it behind with a final look of longing. 

And Blair, who never missed anything, had texted Bruce a picture of it, and he’d asked her to purchase it.

Which she’d had. 

Later that evening when she’d got back to their room, Bruce was waiting for her. There were candles, music and a light supper for the two of them. They slow danced on their veranda for hours and then he methodically undressed her in front of the mirror they’d been standing earlier that morning. He’d wrapped his arms around her like she was his most precious treasure, as he’d taken her from behind, their eyes never straying from each other—their gazes locked in reflection...

And when she’d come...his name a pleading cry from her lips...he promised to love her always as he spilled into her waiting heat—her name a prayer falling like honeyed silk...coiling around her heart...

...keeping her, safe...

When he finally pulled out of her, Bruce lifted her into his strong arms and took her over to their bed and laid her down—kissing her breathless as deep hazel eyes gazed possessively into her own. He then glanced over at the clock on the nightstand, and smirked at the time...

It was three minutes after midnight...

He reached under her pillow and then rolled her on top of him, looking up into those endless brown eyes he loved so much...as he flipped open the ring box that he’d hidden there just a few hours prior. 

Faith stared down at the blinding perfect ring. It was fucking _huge_ , and obviously not a diamond...

“Traditionally, in Russia...a betrothal is a form of the engagement process where the bond is shared between the couple and a priest. Diamonds aren’t usually given from what I’ve read, although I might be wrong. This is an alexandrite, a Russian stone. It changes colors dependent on whether it’s in the sunlight or artificial light, but for us? It represents the duality of our life together. Both light and dark, both lover and warrior. In the light? We can be Bruce and Faith. We can grow our family and stand together for the world to see, but at night? We are Batman and Slayer, and those parts of us are sacred and only for each other. I promise to love both parts of you equally, without judgement, without reservation and for the rest of our lives here, and then into the next one. Marry me, Gorgeous? Be with me always?”

Faith gripped Bruce’s hands that held the box as she stared down into the open expression of the man she’d come to love without reservation...and without fear...

The fact that he’d chosen to propose like this, with her above him in the position of power, said more of his intentions than his words ever could...

...as beautiful as they were...

He was giving her the power...subconsciously...consciously? It mattered little at this point. 

They were equals and always would be.

She knew that in her heart, just like she knew what her answer would be...

“Yes.”

His smile... _this smile..._

...was the one she’d carry with her for the rest of her days. It was completely radiant and filled with light. 

_And love..._

He took the ring out of the box, and placed it on her left ring finger...where it fit perfectly. 

Then he pushed up into her, and kissed her like he’d been waiting his entire life for this precise moment. 

And somehow...Faith knew that she’d been too...

They’d made love until the wee hours of the morning, and when Faith finally succumbed to sleep, her heart was overflowing... 

She’d never been happier or more at peace.


	54. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith receives a missive from the past.

When the morning light filtered through their bedroom, Faith sighed happily at the feel of Bruce’s warm body spooned behind hers. This here, was her favorite part of _any_ day...waking up in his arms and feeling that blissful contentment. 

Last night had been the best night of her life. Bruce had been romantic, possessive, sweet, dominant, submissive and so many other superlatives...it made her heart ache. The light flickered on her left hand that was prone on the mattress near her face, and she smiled widely. 

Her engagement ring was _spectacular_. 

The alexandrite had to be at least ten carats, and the band had white pave diamonds embedded into the platinum that twinkled. 

It was perfectly _her_. 

“Good morning, Gorgeous.” 

Bruce mumbled, as he pulled her even more firmly into his body, causing her to sigh again. 

“It _really_ is.”

Bruce’s lips kissed along her shoulder, until she felt his chin settle there and his left hand entwined with hers, and Faith knew he was staring at the ring too. 

“It wasn’t a dream.”

Rolling over, Faith gazed down at Bruce’s open expression and shook her head. 

“No, it wasn’t.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, when he ran his hand through her hair. “I had wondered if you were going to say, yes.”

“Bruce...”

“I bought this ring two weeks ago. I’ve been carrying it with me everywhere, and I suppose I was just waiting for the perfect moment to ask. I thought it might’ve taken a bit longer to convince you, but I’m so happy, Gorgeous. You have to know that being with you and loving you, is all I could’ve ever hoped for.”

“I feel the same way. Last night was the best night of my life. I don’t think it could’ve been any more perfect than it was.”

“Good. But we’re going to have many more nights like last night. Just because you’ve finally agreed to be mine forever, doesn’t mean I intend to stop courting and romancing you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I know you will.” Bruce grinned, before he rolled her back over and then noted the time. “Crap!”

“What?”

“It’s eight. We need to get ready to meet Lady Grovers in an hour and Roger will be here in thirty minutes.”

“Shit!” Faith shot up and then she said worriedly, “Are we going to announce this?” Waving her left hand and Bruce smirked. 

“Damn right we are, however? Let the papers have their fun, tonight when we get to the Samovar Room, we can make the formal announcement there.”

“Okay. I invited Blair, Clarissa and Serena tonight, along with Lily and her husband.”

“That was nice of you.”  
  
“What about Bart and Chuck Bass?”

”Probably.”

Faith walked towards the bathroom as she said simply, “They seem like okay people, for the most part.”

They quickly showered and got dressed. Bruce was in his normal Armani suit, this one a dark navy pinstripe, powder blue shirt and deep maroon tie. Faith had chosen a lovely red silk fitted dress, with capped ruffled sleeves and a flowing skirt. She pulled her hair up and was placing the finishing touches on her makeup when the knock came at their door. 

“That’ll be Roger.”

Sure enough, the older man walked in with a nod at Bruce. When Faith emerged a few moments later, it only took thirty seconds for Roger to notice the sparkling new addition on her left hand. 

“I see congratulations, are in order?”

Bruce pulled Faith into his side and kissed her temple lovingly. 

“Yes, thank you, Roger.”

“Will we be making a formal announcement?”

“Tonight, at the Samovar Room.”

“I’ll prepare a press release for the papers later today. Your day is booked. You have your brunch with Lady Grovers and her mother. We should probably head down here in a few moments. There is the climate conference forum today at one.”

“The one that Miranda Tate is chairing?” Bruce asked and Roger nodded. 

“Yes. Miss Summers and Miss Rosenburg will be in attendance this evening as well? It’s my understanding that you’ve invited Miss Tate to your event this evening?”

“Yes. I’m thinking of having Willow do a magical trace on her. Hopefully, she’ll lead us back to Bane and we can take them out together.”

“A solid plan.” Roger admitted. “After the conference, you will be having tea with Miss Jolie and Miss Tate, along with Mr. Daggett, Lady Grovers, Mrs. van der Woodsen and Mr. Bass at the Carlyle at four this afternoon. From there, we will return here, where you can get changed for the evening and will arrive at the Samovar by eight o’clock. Do you have your attire picked out for tonight?”

“Yes, it’s in my closet in the white dress bag.”

“Very good. I will have everything arranged for you. Accessories?”

“The shoes are in the small trunk, blue box.”

“Very well.” Roger nodded. “Weapons?”

“I have my silver knife, which I can’t take with me today, I’m assuming?”

“No, there will be metal detectors at the conference.”

“That’s fine.”

“We should get going, Gorgeous.”

Faith nodded and took a deep breath, as they all left the suite and headed for the private dining room. As they reached the lobby, Clarissa was waiting for them. 

“Lady Grovers and her mother were just escorted into the dining room.”

“Thanks, Lari.”

“Good luck.”

Faith nodded and once again, ignored the pointed stares from many a patron as she and Bruce headed for their destination. Once inside the main dining area, the entirety of the people inside hushed as Roger led them to a smaller room off to the left. When they entered, Faith’s eyes widened at the smiling faces of the two women. The younger one was around fifty-five, light brown hair which was done in a French chignon, her clothes and demeanor screaming wealth and class. But it was the older woman that caught Faith’s attention. 

She was probably pushing ninety, her deep brown eyes so much like her own. 

And they were currently tearing up...

“O Bozhe! YA ne mogu poverit' v eto!”

(Oh my God! I can’t believe it!)

Natalia led her mother over, who was a bit shaky, but her eyes were clear and sharp as she took in Faith’s appearance. When she got close enough, she opened her arms and Faith walked over...allowing the woman to kiss her cheeks in the traditional greeting. 

“Nickolayevna!”

“Zdravstvuyte, tetya Zarina.” 

(Hello, Aunt Zarina)

“Eto chudo! Ty takaya krasivaya! Obraz dorogoy Anastasii!”

(It's a miracle! You are so beautiful! The image of dear Anastasia!)

“Eto ochen' milo s vashey storony.”

(That’s very kind of you to say)

“Vzdor, golubka. Vy - videniye etoy starukhi. Segodnya ya poluchil otvet na moi molitvy o nashey sem'ye!”

(Nonsense, little dove. You are a vision to this old woman. My prayers for our family have been answered this day!)

“Tetya Zarina, Natal'ya, pozvol'te poznakomit' vas oboikh s moim zhenikhom Bryusom Ueynom.”

(Aunt Zarina, Natalia, might I introduce you both to my fiancé, Bruce Wayne)

Both women were stunned and then Zarina reached for her left hand, her eyes widening and a smile forming in pleased acceptance at the stunning jewel on her great-niece’s hand.

“Kogda eto proizoshlo?”

(When did this happen?)

“On sprosil menya vchera vecherom. Vy pervyye, komu my skazali.”

(He asked me last night. You are the first people we've told)

Zarina nodded, and then gestured for Bruce to come over, which he did. She cupped his cheeks and gave him the traditional greeting before gazing into his eyes with what could only be described as a calculating look. 

“Vy pozabotites' o nashey Nikolayevne?”

(You will take care of our Nickolayevna?)

“My pozabotimsya drug o druge.”

(We will take care of each other)

Zarina smiled and gestured for them all to sit. Bruce held out Zarina’s chair for her while Roger did the same for Natalia. Bruce then came over and sat Faith down and took his spot next to her. It was a sign of respect from what Roger had shared, to show deference to the matriarchs of the family, and even though Faith held greater standing due to her heritage, Roger felt it would show good faith on her part—for lack of a better term. 

Zarina seemed even more pleased, and both Faith and Bruce listened to her wax poetic about her mother Xenia, and all the wonderful stories she’d heard growing up about her uncle Nicolay and their siblings. Faith listened with rapt attention and asked many questions. They shared laughs, and tears—and throughout it all, Faith held onto Bruce’s hand wherever her emotions threatened to give way. He offered his strength and once brunch was winding down, Zarina nodded to her daughter and gestured towards her niece. 

“My Mother wishes for you to have these items. There are letters, and pictures of the family. One letter however, is sealed and was given to my grandmother, Xenia, to keep in trust. We have no idea what’s in it, but it’s addressed to you.”

“What?” Faith breathed out stunned, and even Bruce was shocked speechless. 

“It’s addressed to Nickolayevna.”

Faith bit her lip and took the small box reverently, her hands shaking slightly as she opened it carefully. 

Inside were pictures of her family. Her prapraded, her prababushka...her aunts, uncles and cousins. 

For each one she held, Faith felt Bruce right next to her, his arm now around her shoulders as they asked questions about the people they didn’t recognize. 

The final picture was a family portrait, taken in 1917, probably weeks before the revolution. Her prababsuhka was wearing the necklace—the one she had in her possession. She traced her finger on it, and could feel Bruce’s gaze on her. 

At the bottom of the box was a worn, yellowed letter—and as Natalia had said...addressed to her. 

Taking a deep breath, she carefully removed the letter and lifted her gaze up questioningly. Zarina nodded proudly, so Faith very gently, broke and seal and opened it. 

Unfolding it, her breath hitched as she noticed the signature at the bottom of the page. 

It was from her prapraded. 

“Eto ot prapradeda, Nikolay.”

(It's from great-great grandfather, Nicholas)

Bruce sucked in a breath, and Faith could see the tears welling behind both women’s eyes, as Natalia covered her mother’s shaking hand. 

Clearing her throat, Faith asked Bruce to shut the door...and he nodded and did as directed. 

“Are there any cameras, in this room?” Faith inquired lowly and Bruce glanced around...noticing that there was one in the corner. He gestured to it and she silently asked him to find Lari, and have her shut the cameras down. As he left, Zarina asked what was going on and Faith told her Aunt that the room had surveillance and she wouldn’t be reading something so personal where others might be listening in. 

“Ona umnaya devochka!”

(She is a smart girl) 

“Spasibo, totya Zarina.”

(Thank you, Aunt Zarina)

It was about fifteen minutes later that Bruce returned. When he sat down he shared, “Roger is in the control room, and is making sure the cameras remain off until I give him the all clear.”

“Good.” Faith replied, feeling a bit more composed. She picked the letter back up and proceeded to read it aloud...

_**Dorogaya Nikolayevna,** _

_**Dolzhno byt', eto pis'mo ot deda vas udivit, no ne udivlyaytes'. YA doveril eto svoyey sestre Ksenii i veryu, chto ona naydet vas zhivymi i zdorovymi, kogda pridet vremya. YA vstrechu svoyu smert', znaya, chto moya Anastasiya budet zhit', kak i yeye potomki. Vy. Voin, chempion.** _

_**Rasputin, kogda-to doverennyy pomoshchnik, teper' predatel' korolevstva, no on podelilsya so mnoy videniyem budushchego nashey sem'i. Tot, v kotorom on nadeyalsya nisprovergnut'.** _

_**On poterpel neudachu, a vy zhivy. Tol'ko ty, moye samoye dorogoye ditya, vernesh' imya Romanovykh v normal'noye ruslo. Eto tvoya sud'ba, Nikolayevna. Tvoy syn Damian osvetit put' ...** _

_**Vsya moya lyubov', moye ditya ...** _

_**Vash ded,  
Nicholas Aleksandrovich Romanov** _

  
(My Dearest Nickolayevna, 

You must be surprised by this letter from your grandfather, but don't be. I have entrusted this with my sister Xenia, and I have faith, that it will find you alive and well when the time is right. I face my death with the knowledge that my Anastasia will live, as will her descendants. You. A warrior, a champion. 

Rasputin, once a trusted aide, now a traitor to the realm, but he shared with me a vision of our family's future. One in which he hoped to subvert. 

He failed, and you are alive. You alone, my dearest child, will bring back the Romanov name to its proper rule. It is your destiny, Nickolayevna. Your son, Damian will light the way...

All my love, my child...

Your Grandfather,  
Nicholas Alexandrovich Romanov)

  
Bruce held onto Faith as her body shook with shock, and when he looked to the two women across from them, tears of love and wonder were falling down their cheeks. 

Faith’s face was cradled into his shoulder, and he could feel her desperately trying to get control of her emotions...

“It’s okay, Gorgeous.”

He felt her nod into his body, but it was a while before she pulled herself together long enough to speak. 

She glanced over to her family, and they were smiling so widely at her. In relief, in acceptance...

It was hard for Bruce to unpack it all. 

“Tetya Zarina, my dolzhny sokhranit' eto v sekrete.”

(Aunt Zarina, we must keep this private)

The older woman nodded emphatically, understanding the ramifications if word of this got out to the wrong people. 

“Bryus i ya? My ozhidayem. Syn. On uzhe chislitsya moim naslednikom.”

(Bruce and I? We are expecting. A son. He's already been listed as my Heir)

Zarina put a shaking hand over her heart as she whispered in broken English, “Have you given him a name, yet?”

“Yes, Damian Nicholas Thomas Wayne.”

“How?” Natalia whispered in wonder. 

“Do you both trust me?”

“Of course!” Natalia replied emphatically. 

“Then trust me that I will tell you, but not right now, agreed?”

“Yes!” 

Zarina patted her daughter’s hand with command, and Natalia nodded in agreement. 

“Are you alright, Aunt Zarina?”

“I am fine, Nickolayevna...but this is a lot of excitement for an old woman. I think I’ll leave you to take my rest.”

They all stood as one, and Zarina came over and kissed Faith again. She then offered Bruce the same courtesy. Natalia gripped Faith’s arm and said lowly, “I will be seeing you later this afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. We will talk more in private later.”

The two woman kissed cheeks, and Bruce held Faith into his side as she took the small box and put the letter back inside. As they left, the larger dining room was not quite as busy as before...but Lari was waiting for them. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, Lari. Thank you for giving us some privacy. Zarina is old, and I would hate to think that anyone would ever unknowingly take advantage of her fragile emotional state.”

“No, I completely understand.”

“I’m going to head upstairs for a bit to freshen up?”

“Go ahead, Gorgeous. I need to make a couple phone calls.”

Bruce kissed her cheek and Faith instinctively placed her left hand to cradle him to her, not noticing Lari’s eyes widening but Bruce did, and he nodded subtly at her. 

The older Waldorf beamed, and took a step back as she watched Faith head upstairs, her secretary now at her side. 

Then Bruce felt a slight slap on his arm. 

“You _proposed_?” Lari hissed, and Bruce smirked. 

“What gave it away?”

“Smart aleck!” Lari grinned. “But seriously, I’m so happy for you both! Are you going to officially announce it tonight?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Shit.” Bruce cocked an eyebrow at the profanity, but Lari just shrugged and waved him off. “Go and make your phone calls. I need to call Blair. That little cretin bet me you’d propose before the weekend was up.”

“Ah, yes... _lovely_ Blair. Somehow, your little sister managed to get through to my fiancée, when even I couldn’t make her see reason.”

“Blair has a gift.”

“So I’ve been told, but now that I’ve seen it in action, tell her once her schooling is done...I’ll expect her to come and work with me.”

“Seriously?”

“She’s already been admitted to Columbia, right?”

“How do you know that?”

“I know things.”

“Yes, she has. Business and design.”

“Good. I’ll talk to Eleanor about it. I’ve been thinking about opening a branch in Paris for a while. I’m looking into a joint business venture that just might give me a way into the market there.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm, but it’s still in the development phase. I’ll have a better idea in a week or so.”

Clarissa watched Bruce saunter off and shook her head in amusement. If he was serious, and he sounded like he was? 

Blair would be _thrilled!_


	55. Climate Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Bruce attend the Climate Conference and get more than they bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains real names that are OOC and not based in factual anything...any similarities to real people is purely coincidental.

Once she’d freshened up, Faith decided to change outfits. Looking through her closet, she picked out the white Roberto Cavalli pantsuit that Bruce had bought her in Zurich. Spritzing on a bit of her perfume, she did a once over in the mirror and nodded. Her hair was now down, and flowing which was the style she preferred. The top was pulled back with an antique clip that she’d found in a little shop the day before. The earrings were simple, silver hoops that matched her shoes. As she left her room, Roger glanced up from his laptop and nodded approvingly.

“Very classic. Business casual.”

“Thanks.”

Faith had locked the pictures in the safe, including the letter as well. Not that she didn’t think Roger was trustworthy, but better to be safe than sorry.

“Was there anything you needed from me this afternoon?”

“Yes. I need you to contact the stores from yesterday and confirm the dates of shipping and then arrange for a storage place in Gotham where they can be sent to. There is an item at the last store I went to, that I would really appreciate it if you could go down in person and purchase it.”

“What was it?”

“An antique cradle. I was going to buy it but..”

“Say no more.”

“Do you have a company credit card?”

“Giles has given me one with a spending limit. However, it’s not an issue. He’d mentioned you’ve set up an account for the IWC.”

“I did. I want the potentials to be able to be taken care of.”

“Admirable.”

“Yeah, well...no one should go hungry or wonder where they’re going to sleep at night.”

Roger’s face fell. “I feel as if I should apologize.”

“For?”

“Misjudging you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sir. I’m still a work in progress.”

Roger nodded and watched the young Slayer leave, his expression thoughtful. 

When Faith emerged from the elevator, Bruce was waiting in the lobby talking with John, Lari and Bart Bass. 

“Hey.”

Bruce smiled and walked over, taking her arm and kissing her cheek in greeting. 

“You look gorgeous as always.”

“Thanks. Roger gave his stamp of approval.”

Chuckling softly, Bruce led Faith over to their small entourage. 

“Hello, John.”

“Hey, Faith.”

The Slayer’s dark eyes settled on Bart Bass, and he smirked at her. 

“Your Grace.”

“Mr. Bass. Bruce did mention this morning that you three are working on some kind of business deal?”

“It’s in the development phase.”

“Ah, well...I suppose we should get going?”

Bruce nodded, and Lari came over and hugged Faith, whispering, “ _Congratulations_ ” into her ear. 

Faith beamed and allowed the woman to take her left hand, not noticing the stunned looks from Daggett and Bass, who were now eyeing Wayne speculatively. 

“He did _good_.” Lari quipped. 

“Thanks, Lari.” 

Bruce mocked and she winked, but allowed the Wayne Heir to take possession of his fiancée.

“I can’t believe you said, yes!” John quipped, once they were in the limo on the way to the conference. 

“He was _very_ persuasive.” Faith purred. 

“ _I’ll bet he was.”_ Bart griped. 

“Do you think we could make a stop on the way, Krasivyy?”

“For what?”

“I forgot my tape measure.”

Bruce snorted and John bowled over in rich laughter, while Bart’s gaze narrowed accusingly. 

“That’s the second such inference you’ve made, Your Grace.”

“Oh call me Faith, Bart. The way you say my formal title, makes me want to scratch my eyes out.”

The older man grinned wickedly, and eyed Wayne with a tinge of jealousy.

“You’re a _lucky_ bastard, Wayne.”

“My parents were married, Bart. Quite happily too.”

Bart bowed his head at the hit. His Father had been acquainted with Thomas Wayne. While the man hadn’t been known for his business acumen, he was a humanitarian and a philanthropist at heart. He’d been well-respected, and Martha had been adored by all within East Coast society. 

Their deaths were a tremendous loss. 

“They were. I remember my Father saying he’d never seen two people more well-suited than Thomas and Martha were. She was a remarkable woman by all accounts.”

Bruce tilted his head humbly at the compliment, and even Faith was surprised by the kindness of Bart Bass. If he could act almost human when discussing Thomas and Martha...it let Faith know just how beloved they were. 

“Get that look off your face, John!” Bart sneered. “I do have the capacity to be gracious when it’s _warranted_.”

“Noted.”

“Not that I’d ever show that to _you_.”

“You’re a dick.”

“And?”

“Just stating facts.” John parlayed back. “Don’t you get tired of being known as the _Prince of Darkness?”_

“ _What?!”_ Faith cried out with a manic grin. “Seriously?”

“You find that funny?” Bart challenged, and both Bruce and John were trying, rather unsuccessfully, to stop their laughter. 

“Hysterical!” Faith deadpanned. “Did you know that Buffy actually _met_ the Prince of Darkness?”

John’s eyes widened and Bruce gave her a questioning look, but she just scoffed and said waspishly, “I’m not an idiot, Krasivyy. You three are in cahoots and going after _my_ target. It’s rude of you to not include me, by the way. If any of you even think of getting in my way, I’ll kick your asses so far and so fast? You’ll be begging me for relief.”

“ _Faith_...”

She pointed her finger at him, which shut Bruce right up. When she glared at John, he just shrugged helplessly, but Bart looked more intrigued than anything. 

“John said that you were a warrior. Wolfram and Hart? Shadow organization? Tell me, Faith? Why do I get the feeling there’s way more to you than meets the eye?”

“Because there _is_.” She bit back. 

Bruce pulled her into his side, and nipped at her neck in warning. 

“You’re going after her money?”

“Yes.” Bruce admitted. 

“How?”

“It’s complicated, but Buffy and Willow are helping.”

Faith sat back and pouted while Bruce whispered into her ear, “I was going to tell you tonight. We just worked out the logistics before you came downstairs.”

“I see.” Faith hummed evenly, as she considered all the possibilities. “In order to do this, you’d have to get access to her financials, right?”

“Yes.”

“Fingerprints and access codes.” 

Faith nodded with finality, and Bart sat back and shook his head in wonder. 

“Would you be willing to dump Wayne, and marry _me_ , Faith?”

Bruce’s face darkened in that instant and the feral growl that erupted from his mouth had Bart Bass putting up his hands in submission. 

“Shit! I hadn’t wanted to believe it, but my kid was actually _right_.”

“What?” John asked. 

Bart glanced at Daggett for a brief moment, before his grey eyes settled back onto Wayne. 

“You’re _him_. I didn’t think you had that kind of rage in you, Bruce. I knew you weren’t the kind of man to take your parents death’s laying down, but even I didn’t think you had the stones to work outside the law to meet your objectives.”

Faith could feel Bruce’s body coil in his fight mode, and she gripped his leg and turned him to face her. She opened up her mind to his and soothed him, before he killed Bart Bass. 

When she felt the tension leave his body, she turned to face Bass and said coldly, “If you even _think_ of using this information for your own personal gain, I will _destroy_ you.”

“And you have that kind of power?”

“Yes. Tell me Bart? Do you know the old tale of Baba Yaga?”

“The boogeyman?”

“In a way. Do you believe there are forces out in the world, that can’t be explained?”

“Such as?”

“Vampires, monsters, demons, magic?”

“No.”

“You have an astonishing lack of curiosity, Bart.” 

Faith closed her eyes and called for Willow and in a flash, the witch was sitting next to her in the limo, to the stunned shock of one Bart Bass. 

“Willow, my dear friend? Bart here doesn’t believe in the _boogeyman_.”

“Oh?” 

The red-head smiled and in a flash, her features morphed into black eyes, veins and hair—and the look on Bart Bass’s face was fucking priceless. 

“ _What are you?”_

“I’m a witch.”

He swallowed and turned to Faith and asked, “And you?”

“ _I’m the boogeyman_.” Faith smirked. “I’m the thing that the darkness _fears_...monsters, demons, vampires...I’m the thing that _kills_ them, so you can fall asleep at night in your gilded Penthouse, surrounded by all your pretty things without a care in the world. _You’re welcome.”_

Bruce shook his head and smiled. 

Bart gazed back at John, and he nodded. 

“I’ve seen them, Bart. The vampires at any rate. Sunnydale?”

“The town destroyed by that sink hole?”

“No, the town that was destroyed because there was a hell mouth located there with thousands of vampires. It was destroyed, because a battle took place between the vampires and those like me.” Faith explained. 

“Like you?”

“Slayers.”

Bart scrunched his brow and then said stiltedly, “There’s an old African legend of a warrior...”

“The Primeval One?” Faith postulated, and Bart nodded. 

“Yes.”

“I’m her descendent.”

“ _Shit_.”

“So you fuck with me, with Bruce? I’ll come after you, clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Can you teleport out, Willow?”

She nodded reluctantly, and in a flash, she was gone. 

“That’s...” Bart shook his head. “I don’t have words.”

“That’d be a first.” John snarked, causing Faith to lean over and smack the back of his head in irritation. 

“Hey!”

“Quit acting like a child and I’ll stop treating you like one. Even if you’re banging my sister Slayer.”

John quirked a half-grin, as he rubbed the back of his head. 

“So violent.”

“I haven’t killed anything in weeks, John. Don’t push me.”

“Pregnancy hormones, shit...”

Bruce reacted so quickly that neither John nor Bart had a chance to move, when he lunged forward and put Daggett into a choke hold. 

“Bruce!”

“ _How dare you!”_

“I already know!” 

Bart chuckled deeply, more amused by Wayne’s reaction than not. 

Bruce immediately let John go, his gaze narrowing dangerously. 

“How?”

“Lily figured it out last night. She’d noticed that Faith wasn’t drinking, and you two had quite a touching moment when you thought no one was watching.”

Bruce sat back and groaned, while Faith just shook her head. 

“You okay, John?”

“I’ll live.”

“Unfortunately.” Bruce gritted out, causing Bart to snicker again with glee. 

“And here I thought today was going to be a chore.” Bart quipped abrasively. “But this just keeps getting better and better.”

“I don’t like you.” Faith mocked playfully, and Bart grinned. 

“I like _you_. In fact, I think it’s fair to say if you weren’t engaged to Gotham’s Dark Knight, I’d be chasing you until you gave in.”

Bruce tilted his head back down, his gaze murderous while Faith’s throaty laugh filled the limo. 

“In your dreams, Bass!” She giggled. “Hate to break it to you, hot shot? But I’m a one man, woman.”

She felt Bruce pulling her next to him as he mumbled into her neck, “ _Damn right you are!”_

She cupped his head and smiled lovingly, then lifted his chin up so their foreheads touched and both Bart and John could see the clear devotion between the two of them. 

“I think I’m going to be sick.” John mused, causing Faith to stick her tongue out at him. 

“Are we there yet?”

Bart glanced out the window and nodded. “We’re pulling in now.”

“Oh, thank God! If I don’t get out of here right now? I’m going to rip Bruce’s suit off and fuck him right here with all this testosterone raging in this fucking car!”

All three men just stared at her incredulously, then burst out in uproarious laughter while Faith smirked in triumph. 

“Men.” She muttered to herself. “So _easy_.”

“I heard that.” 

Bruce growled into her hair, and Faith shivered at his seductive tone. 

“Is it true?”

“Only with _you_.”

“Good answer.”

The limo pulled to the curb and the driver got out and opened the door. John got out first, followed by Bart. When Bruce emerged, Faith could hear several reporters calling his name. 

He turned and held out his hand, and like before—the second her hand settled into his, it was fucking bedlam. 

When she emerged, Bruce pulled her into his side as Bart and John flanked them and they all entered the conference together. 

As soon as they made it through the door, Yevgeny was there to greet them. 

“Nickolayevna!”

“Hello, Yevgeny!”

The two kissed like old friends, and then he shook Bruce’s hand in welcome. Bruce introduced John and Bart, and Yevgeny made introductions to several notable diplomats from the old Soviet regime. Then the former Secretary General Kofi Anan came over and was formally introduced. 

As they walked towards where the event was to be held, several people stopped and were eager to be introduced. All were respectful, all bowed deferentially and called Faith ‘ _Your Grace’_ — which she appreciated, even if it made her uncomfortable.

Once they’d reached the pavilion, Faith’s gaze narrowed slightly when she noticed Miranda Tate and Angelina Jolie talking with several people she didn’t immediately recognize. Miranda Tate was a beautiful woman, dark hair and eyes, exotic looking. She could feel John’s emotions as the woman came into view, and she immediately sidled up to him and said lowly, “Game face.”

He glanced down at her and nodded, his entire demeanor changing on a dime. 

It was good timing too, because at that exact moment, Miranda glanced up and her face broke out into what could possibly pass for a genuine smile, when she saw their group...

...and John in particular. 

She made straight for him...

“Johnathan!” 

The woman’s voice was rich, cultured and inflected with a lilting French accent. 

“Hello, Miranda.” John moved forward and kissed the woman’s cheeks in greeting, and Faith had to hand it to him...

...he was _smooth_...

The woman’s eyes darted towards their group and Faith noticed her body stiffen slightly, before she relaxed...

...but she’d caught it...

“Won’t you introduce me?”

“Of course.” 

John offered his arm, which Miranda took with a grateful smile as he led her over...

“Miranda, please allow me to introduce you to Bruce Wayne and his fiancée, Faith Lehane—the Grand Duchess Nickolayevna.”

“Your Grace.” Miranda curtsied elegantly, and then she turned her attention to Bruce and for a split second, Faith felt Miranda’s emotions surge...

...hate, anger and vengeance...

...but there was desire there too...

However, she masked her emotions quickly enough that her expression didn’t falter at all. 

She was good. 

“Mr. Wayne.”

“Miss Tate.”

“It’s an honor to meet you both. I didn’t know you were engaged?”

“Bruce asked me last night.” 

Faith smiled adoringly up at her fiancé, an expression he easily returned. 

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Miranda turned around and waved a few people forward. 

“Have you formally met Miss Jolie, Your Grace?”

“No, we’ve only spoken briefly.”

“Your Grace.” 

The actress curtsied too, and Faith had to admit, she rather enjoyed the irony. 

“Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thank you.” Bruce replied for the both of them. 

Angelina gestured to a man behind her, and Faith instantly felt there was something eerily familiar about him that she just couldn’t quite place. 

“Please allow me to introduce you both to my companion—Mr. Brad Pitt.”

“Your Grace.” He bowed and then turned to Bruce. “Mr. Wayne.” 

“Mr. Pitt.” Bruce nodded in welcome, as he glanced down at Faith, who seemed genuinely perplexed. 

“You alright, Gorgeous?”

“Hmm? Oh yes! Mr. Pitt just seems familiar.”

Everyone chuckled, causing Bruce to supply easily, “He’s an actor.”

“Oh?” Faith prevaricated, and then shrugged helplessly. “I’m so sorry, but I really don’t get to the movies, or watch much television.”

“That’s a first.” 

Brad smiled widely, and Faith felt that unsettling feeling of familiarity again. 

“Perhaps we should get inside,” Miranda offered politely, “it’s about that time.”

Everyone followed her, and when Faith walked by Brad, she didn’t notice him stiffening slightly when he inhaled deeply, but Bruce saw it—instantly sending his radar up.

They were escorted to the front row, where they sat with Yevgeny. John, Bart, Brad and Angelina were in the row behind them, and Faith felt that prickly feeling of awareness hovering over her subconscious. She gripped onto Bruce’s leg at one point, causing him to turn his head sharply in worry. 

He learnt over and whispered into her ear, “What’s wrong?”

Opening her mind, she said shakily, “ _I don’t know. Something feels off.”_

She could see Bruce’s brow furrowing, and then her attention went to John, who was sitting over her left shoulder. She made eye contact with him, and he half-grinned at her. When her gaze flitted to the man next to John, Brad Pitt was openly staring at her...his blue eyes assessing. 

She turned back abruptly, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

When there was a break in the meeting, she whispered to Bruce that she was going to find the powder room. He stood up to escort her, and when they walked out, Faith could feel the heavy weight of eyes on her once again. 

Once safely inside the bathroom, she took off her jacket and went to relieve herself, before freshening up a bit. As she was about to leave, the bathroom door opened and in walked the one woman she didn’t want to see. 

“Your Grace.”

“Miss Jolie.”

“Are you alright? You seem a bit flushed.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” 

As Faith went to leave, the woman spoke again. 

“I must admit, I was surprised by your engagement announcement. Bruce never seemed like the kind of man to settle down.”

“Oh?” Faith turned around and tilted her head curiously. “I wasn’t aware that spending one night in my fiancé’s bed, made you an expert on all things, Bruce Wayne.”

Angelina’s face morphed into a sly smile. “So he told you?”

“He did.”

Large green eyes flickered down to Faith’s arm and then moved back up sharply, her gaze now assessing. 

“That’s a lovely tattoo.”

Glancing down, Faith shrugged. “Thanks.”

“I have a few myself.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, as does Brad. Oddly, he has one almost identical to yours.”

Faith lifted her gaze, and cocked her head in confusion. “Odd I guess, but this is hardly an original design.”

“Actually, it is from what he’s told me. He’d had it done in a tattoo parlor in Boston, about a year ago.”

“Well, that makes sense since I had this done in Boston as well.”

“Did you live there before you met Bruce?”

“No, Cleveland.”

Angelina’s expression shifted slightly, but her eyes were now blistering with raw intensity. 

“Interesting city.”

“Not really.”

“No? Are you familiar with Simitar?”

It was only due to her years of training, that allowed Faith not to react. 

“I’m not sure what that is?”

“No?”

“No. Again, I didn’t get out much.”

“Huh? Well, that’s _interesting_.”

“If you say so, but we probably should get back. If I know Bruce, he’s outside pacing as we speak.”

“Of course, _Your Grace._ ”

Faith was certain the last two words were said with a tinge of sarcastic inflection, but she let it go for now. 

She had bigger things to worry about. 

When she walked out, as expected, Bruce was there. She immediately opened her mind and said simply, “ _We have a problem.”_

He bowed his head in unspoken query, so Faith told him silently what had happened. When she glanced up, Brad was standing there, his gaze scope locked on her. Bruce whipped his head in the man’s direction and his eyes narrowed in warning. He helped Faith put her jacket back on, and then escorted her back into the conference. 

When the seminar was finally over, they all made their way to the Carlyle. Natalia and Lily were waiting, and they greeted Faith profusely. 

Faith introduced the two women to everyone who hadn’t met them. As they moved into the tea room, Faith once again felt eyes on her. Bruce pulled her chair out and settled her comfortably, before taking his own seat. John did the honors for Miranda, Bart for Lily and Yevgeny for Natalia. Brad and Angelina were the last to sit down. 

“So, My Dear!” Lily smiled. “Blair told me you were able to pick up some fascinating things for Wayne Manor yesterday.”

“I did. That girl is a menace, but she’s a gem too.”

“That she is. She’s excited to be be starting at Columbia in the fall.”

“Lari did mention that earlier this morning.” Bruce admitted casually. 

“And how was the conference?” Lily inquired. 

“Informative.” John piped in. “Miranda’s presentation as expected, was the highlight of the day. The information on water conservation issues with shale gas mining, I found particularly interesting.”

“It’s a huge concern.” Miranda nodded in agreement. “The current administration needs to understand the long term affects that their disregard for environmental policies is putting us all at great risk.”

“I have to admit, I’ve never thought much about global warming but you did make some good points.” Faith offered. 

“What part did you find most informative, Your Grace?” 

Angelina asked, again with her slight inflection on Faith’s formal title. 

“Well, water being part of the hydrologic water cycle, and due to the first principle of Thermodynamics—the water we get is recycled and if it’s contaminated to the point that it’s no longer able to renew itself properly, we’re all pretty much dead, right? Not to mention the release of greenhouse gases like methane, would likely cause more acid rain.”

Everyone stared at her, as she smugly took a sip of her water. She felt Bruce’s hand caressing her leg, and when she glanced up at him, he was smirking down proudly at her. 

“Seems as if someone has done her homework.” Bart raised a glass in appreciation.

“Well, water, oxygen, nitrogen, carbon? They’re all part of similar renewal cycles. If one goes, they all pretty much do and we’re all pretty much screwed, right?”

Everyone laughed, and Faith winked at Bart, who bowed his head at the hit. 

“Sounds like you’ve found a _cause_ , Gorgeous?”

“Maybe.” She smiled, before turning to Miranda. “You definitely have a way with words, Miss Tate. Very _effective_. I’d imagine you probably do well with motivating people to your cause.”

Miranda smiled, but Faith could see it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“That’s a lovely compliment, Your Grace.”

“I can give credit where it’s due.”

“As can I.” Lily beamed. “And I can see that our dear Bruce, has finally popped the question!”

Faith nodded. “He did.”

“And he did a superlative job in picking out the perfect ring. Alexandrite, yes?”

“Yes.”

Natalia, who was sitting on Faith’s right, placed a commiserate hand over hers. 

“How is Zarina?”

“She’s resting. It was an emotional day for her.”

“I know.”

“Your mother is visiting?” 

Miranda queried in surprise, and Natalia nodded. 

“She wished to see Nickolayevna, and had some family pictures for her.”

“It was very kind of her. Oh, that reminds me! I do have the picture of my Prababushka, and I remembered to bring it with me!”

Faith pulled it out from her purse and handed it to Natalia, who’s hand went directly over her heart with emotion. When she turned it over, she hissed at the date. 

“Tasia. July 18, 1921.”

The entire table went silent, as Natalia took in the photo. 

“You have the necklace?”

Faith carefully pulled it out of her purse and handed it to her cousin, who held it reverently within her hands. 

“Pochemu vy yego ne nosite, Nikolayevna?”

(Why aren’t you wearing it, Nickolayevna?)

“YA sobiralsya podozhdat' do noyabrya.”

(I was going to wait until November)

“Ah, I understand. It will make it all the more special, yes?”

“I thought so, too. But I wanted you to see it, and I forgot to bring it this morning.”

“To see this?” 

Natalia shook her head, and Faith gripped her hand as they took in the moment together. 

Natalia handed over the necklace, and Faith put in back inside the velvet pouch in her purse. The picture was sitting on the table, and she could feel everyone’s eyes on it. 

“I’m sorry, if this seems a bit...”

“No, dear!” Lily was quick to reassure, “I don’t think there is a set etiquette for something of this magnitude. It’s only natural you’d wish to share this with your family. I for one, feel honored to be included in your circle.”

Faith smiled, and placed the picture back into her bag, settling it back into her lap. 

“Thank you, Lily.”

“Of course.”

“I’m so looking forward to this evening!” 

Faith smiled at Yevgeny, changing the subject and he bowed his head in assent. 

“Everyone I’ve extended an invitation to, has graciously accepted. I do believe it will be an evening to remember.”

“As long as I get my...”

“Yes, yes...Nickolayevna...I did not forget.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.” She winked.

“What did you request?” John asked with interest. 

“You’ll see, John. Don’t ruin the surprise.”

“I would never!”

Everyone joined in on the quiet mirth at John’s expense, and as the servers came and went, Faith noticed that the same one attended to Miranda.

Her eyes caught Bart’s, and the look in his grey eyes said everything words alone couldn’t convey. 

Towards the end of their meet and greet, as they were all saying their goodbyes—albeit temporarily, Faith was standing with Lily, when they were approached by Brad Pitt. 

“Your Grace?”

“Mr. Pitt?”

“I wanted to thank you for including me today.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Might I speak with you in private for a moment?”

Faith cocked an eyebrow, but politely asked Lily to give them some privacy. 

She could feel Bruce’s eyes on her from across the room, but she was more than curious as to what this man had to say to her. 

“What can I do for you?”

“Does Wayne know?”

“Know what, Mr. Pitt?”

Brad moved a bit closer and whispered lowly, “About your time in Cleveland.”

“And just what is it you think my fiancé needs to be made aware of?”

“I think you know exactly what that is, Mistress.”

Faith’s dark brown eyes locked onto blue ones, and she smirked wickedly. 

“It was _you_ , wasn’t it?”

“What was?”

“The one who offered, what was it?”

“I remember.”

“My fiancé and I have no secrets, Mr. Pitt. What I have to wonder is, just what do you and your little actress girlfriend think you’re going to gain by bringing this up? Blackmail? You signed an NDA if memory serves, and I have way more money and power than you do, not to mention my fiancé will destroy you both.”

“That’s not my intention.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Than what is?”

The blonde swallowed as he spoke up hesitantly, “Angelina had sex with your fiancé.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“And we...”

“We _never_ engaged in that.”

“No, we didn’t.”

Faith’s gaze narrowed, as she nodded in sudden realization.

“But you’d wanted me to. It’s why you kept coming back. You seemed to think by offering me a lot of money, it would make me change my mind.”

“I did.”

“You were wrong. Did you ask her to confront me earlier?”

“No. I told her earlier what I’d suspected, but she did that on her own.”

“She also mentioned my tattoo was exactly like one you have?”

“Yes, I had it done in Boston when I was producing a movie there last year. I wanted something...”

“A _momento_ of that time?”

His voice was quiet, almost reverent when he whispered out, “ _Yes_.”

Glancing up, Faith noticed that Bruce’s eyes were boring into her’s, and she shook her head subtly at him. 

“What is it you want from me, Mr. Pitt?”

“You know what I want. My desires have never changed in that regard.”

“Does your companion know this?”

“She suspected it before, and I’m sure she knows it now. However, she has her own reasons for being here.”

Faith side-eyed him as she bit out lowly, “Bruce?”

“I believe so.”

Faith sighed heavily and then shook her head in disgust. 

“This conversation is over, Mr. Pitt. Perhaps I should be flattered, but all I feel right now is threatened and I don’t do well with that concept.”

“No, I don’t imagine you’d would.”

“You really need to find a new girlfriend.” Faith warned lowly. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Mr. Pitt.”

She smiled disingenuously as she made her way over to Bruce—who’s lethal stare was fixated solely upon the man behind her. When she reached him, he immediately pulled her into his side and whispered into her ear, “What did he want?”

“Later.”

He nodded, but Faith knew well enough to know? 

That Bruce wouldn’t let this go. 

On the way back to their hotel, Bruce was silent and thankfully, Bart and John had decided to find their own way to wherever they’d needed to go. 

Once they were at their hotel, Bruce escorted her into the elevator—his body rigid...almost as if he was ready to go into battle. 

It wasn’t until they got to their room, and noted that Roger wasn’t there that Bruce reacted—but not exactly in the way she’d expected...

No...

He picked her up and marched into their bedroom, throwing her unceremoniously on the bed as his hazel eyes burned into hers. 

“ _Get undressed.”_

The words were cutting, demanding, and Faith knew exactly where this was coming from. 

So she complied, even though this wasn’t her play—she didn’t mind it with Bruce. 

In fact, she’d come to enjoy it quite a lot. 

She watched him too, as he undressed. His movements sharp and tinged with aggression. When she was down to her skivvies, he knelt down on their bed and hovered over her—his dick fully erect and leaking. 

“What did he _want_?”

“Bruce...”

“Don’t, Gorgeous. I saw how he looked at you. _What did he want?”_

“He was one of my clients at Simitar. I don’t know how he knew it was me.”

“Your _perfume_.”

“What?”

“When we walked by him earlier today, I saw him inhaling your scent. _He recognized it._ It’s very distinctive. My guess? He took a gamble...”

“Yes. His little girlfriend recognized my tattoo, too. Apparently, he has one just like it. Got it in Boston last year.”

“So he got your tattoo, because he wanted a reminder of you?”

“Yes, he admitted it.”

“Did you?”

“No, Krasivyy! I told you, I never had sex with any of my clients there. But he was the only one I saw more than once and the one who offered me a shitload of money...”

“Fuck!” Bruce growled deeply in understanding. “He wanted you.”

“Yes. He propositioned me earlier.”

“I’m going to destroy him!”

“Bruce...it wasn’t just his idea.”

She watched Bruce’s expression morph from confusion to comprehension in an instant. 

“Angelina?”

“Yes. Apparently, you must’ve made quite the impression yourself, if she was willing to try and use her new lover to create a wedge in our relationship for her own gain.”

“Not happening.”

“I agree,” Faith grappled at his arms and then demanded huskily, “Now fuck me, Krasivyy. Show me who I belong to.”

“With _pleasure_ , Gorgeous.” 


	56. The Primeval One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith’s event goes off without a hitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previous chapter disclaimers apply here as well.

After Bruce had assuaged his need to claim, they’d taken a shower and freshened up for their evening and now Faith was standing in front what would probably be her favorite mirror of all time, putting in her earrings. Her gaze locked onto Bruce’s, as he walked over and placed his hands on her hips, his chin resting on her shoulder—his hazel eyes piercing through all her defenses as they slowly perused her form in the reflection. 

“Do you think I could convince Lari to let me buy this mirror?” He wondered softly, and Faith smiled as she too, had shared that same thought. 

“I think so, if you tell her the truth? She might just gift it to you. I think that woman is a romantic at heart.”

Bruce grinned, before kissing her shoulder and breathing in her unique scent. 

“Is it wrong that I feel insanely jealous of any other man recognizing how delicious you smell?”

“No. Would you prefer I find another scent?”

“ _No_!” 

Faith smiled knowingly at how emphatic that denial came out, before she sighed in defeat. 

“Should I apologize?”

“For what?”

“You know what for?”

Bruce considered the question seriously, but in the end it mattered little to him. Faith’s past was just that—in the past. He loved everything about her, including her sexual proclivities and he’d be a hypocrite if he held something against her, that he benefited greatly from. 

“No. I think all couples probably face these issues to varying degrees. All of us have a past, ours is just more unique. Your aura is like a magnet, Gorgeous. You radiate power and raw sexual appeal like no woman I’ve ever known. Every man sees it, senses it—yet I’m the man who has you all to himself. I see how other men look at me with envy, when we walk into a room. And if I needed a reminder, which I don’t by the way—that fact was made very clear to me today.”

Faith turned in Bruce’s embrace and cocked a challenging eyebrow at him. 

“And you don’t think women lust after you in the same way, Krasivyy? You don’t think I _feel_ it, when we walk into a room?”

Bruce’s brow furrowed and he asked, “You feel it?”

She nodded. “It’s why I was so reluctant to open up that part of my powers, because I knew if I did? It would make it harder for me to control my own emotions. I felt Miranda’s emotions today when she looked at you. She didn’t mask them quickly enough, and for all her anger and vengeance...even she desires you.”

“Gorgeous...”

Faith placed her fingers over Bruce’s mouth and shook her head reprovingly. 

“This is my reality now. I can’t change it, Krasivyy. I can feel you inside me and as a result, I can sense others reactions to you. I think it’s like a protective mechanism?”

“How much of my emotions did you feel from earlier?”

“I could feel everything you were feeling today. The stronger your emotions, the more they come through. I’d imagine in time? I’ll be able to hear you speak to me telepathically.”

“Really?”

Faith nodded again as she carded her hand down his face tenderly, and watched his eyes close in bliss at her touch. 

“This is why I’ve never given up control,” she whispered emotively, “because I knew once I did? I’d never be able to take it back.”

Bruce cupped her cheeks tenderly as he gazed down at her with wonder and love radiating from every pore of his being. 

“Is it wrong of me that I’m happy you can’t take it back?”

“No. I don’t want to. I love you too much to ever try and shut myself off from you.”

“And I love you just as much, Gorgeous. I can’t survive without you.”

“Ditto.”

A knock sounded on their door, and Bruce placed a gentle kiss on her lips before he stood back and smirked. 

“You’re so exquisite. Bart was right. I am a lucky bastard.”

Faith giggled and shook her head. 

“Please don’t ever tell him that you said ‘ _he’s right_ ’ about anything, Bruce. Something tells me he’d hold it against you forever.”

“Most likely.”

Reaching for his suit jacket, Bruce slid it on and watched in amusement as Faith clipped her silver knife to her garter under her dress. 

“That’s fucking _sexy_.” He growled, causing Faith to glance up and wink unabashedly. 

“Come on, _stud_...let’s get this over with so we can come back here and fuck each other silly.”

Chuckling deeply, Bruce opened the door and nodded at Roger, who was waiting patiently for them. 

“I see we are ready to go?”

“Yes.” Faith murmured, grabbing her purse. “Did the perimeter around the restaurant get swept?”

“Mr. Angel sent two teams and made sure that the surrounding area around the restaurant is secure. He also has scouts in the area for the evening, and they will be monitoring any supernatural activity just in case.”

“That’s good.” Faith replied in relief, before reaching for Bruce’s wrist to look at the time. He smirked down and her and shook his head. 

“Don’t you have a watch, Gorgeous?”

Brown eyes shot up to his, and her gaze narrowed slightly. 

“No, never saw a reason to have one.”

“Oh?”

“No. I have my phone. So if need to check the time, I have that.”

“But that’s in your purse.”

“And?”

Bruce snorted in amusement, before he went over to a side drawer and pulled out a long, sleek box. 

When he sauntered over, he handed it to his fiancée and she glared at it.

“What did you do?”

“Open it, Gorgeous.”

“Bruce...”

“ _Open it._ ” His voice was slightly more demanding, so Faith took the box and did as asked. 

When she saw what was inside, her breath hitched in shock. 

It was a watch, and it was as simple as it was gorgeous. 

“It’s a vintage Tiffany watch, with rubies and diamonds. I saw it yesterday afternoon, and I thought it would look perfect for tonight. It matches your dress.”

And it did. The color of the her silk chiffon dress that had a haltered top and hugged her form to the floor, was chosen especially for this evening. 

“Put it on me?”

“With pleasure.” Bruce smiled and once clasped, he lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles possessively. “Are you ready?”

“I suppose I have to be, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s do this!”

Offering his arm, and grabbing Faith’s wrap...Bruce led them towards the elevator. When they got downstairs and through the lobby, the hotel limo was waiting. 

There were a several paparazzi outside, and as expected their cameras went off in earnest the second she and Bruce set foot outside the hotel. He was quick to usher her inside the limo, following immediately. The drive would be about twenty minutes, give or take dependent upon traffic. 

“Do me a favor?” Faith urged, and Bruce’s brow furrowed as he took in her slightly worried expression. 

“And what is that?”

“No confrontations tonight until it’s time. As much as I’d like to punch that little tart in the face, and I’m sure you feel the same way about her companion? I’d rather not go there. This is too important to let two people who mean nothing to us ruin the work Yevgeny put into this.”

Bruce leant over and kissed her cheek tenderly. 

“I promise. I’ll make my sentiments known some other way, agreed?”

“Do I want to know how you might do that?”

He just shrugged, but Faith was fairly certain she really didn’t want to know just how Bruce was going to go about staking his claim. She only knew well enough, that she needed to allow him the concession if he felt the need. 

When they finally pulled up in front of the restaurant, there were police and security out front and a barrier had been set up by the city so that the reporters couldn’t get near the entrance. It didn’t mean that there weren’t about two dozen cameras going off at the same time as soon as they emerged from the limo. 

It was just past seven-thirty, and they were the last to arrive. As they entered the restaurant, Yevgeny was inside waiting, along with a few people Faith didn’t recognize.

“Nickolayevna!” Yevgeny came over and they greeted each other properly, before he took a step back and nodded in approval. “Red is _definitely_ your color.”

“Thank you, Yevgeny.” Her smile was bright as Bruce shook the man’s hand hello. 

“Let me introduce you to a few people.”

“Of course.”

The first person Yevgeny made the formal introductions for, were the owners of the restaurant. Dimitry Federov and his business partner, Mikhail Baryshnikov—the noted Ballet dancer. 

“Your Grace.” Both men bowed formally. 

“Spasibo za organizatsiyu etogo meropriyatiya.” 

(Thank you for hosting this event)

Both men smiled widely, but it was Dimitry who replied, “Dlya nas bol'shaya chest' videt' vas zdes'.”

(We are so honored to have you here)

“YA tak ponimayu, etot restoran byl odnim iz pervykh russkikh domov v gorode?”

(I understand this restaurant was one of the first Russian houses in the city?)

“Da! Yey pochti sem'desyat let! No segodnya on sil'no otlichayetsya ot svoyego pervonachal'nogo voploshcheniya.”

(Yes! It is nearly seventy years old! But it is much different today than its original incarnation)

“Kak chudesno! YA s neterpeniyem zhdu vozmozhnosti uznat' bol'she. Yesli mozhno, ya khotel by poznakomit' vas oboikh so svoim zhenikhom Bryusom Ueynom.”

(How Wonderful! I’m looking forward to learning more. If I may, I'd like to introduce you both to my fiancé, Bruce Wayne)

Both men appeared initially stunned, before they smiled widely and offered warm congratulations—shaking Bruce’s hand in commiseration and welcome. 

Moving into the main part of the restaurant, which was filled with all kinds of Russian paintings, and trinkets—they walked past the long bar on the right, where people were milling about. There was a white grand piano at the end, which was being played by a very good pianist. As they moved further into the room, Yevgeny stopped to make introductions here and there. Many of the noted people were businessmen and women, politicians, and those within the art community. Sergei, Natasha and Illia had come, as well as the Yagudin’s she’d met in the elevator at the Waldorf. John, Bart, Lily, along with Chuck, Blair, Serena and Lari were talking with several people, including Miranda Tate. Angelina and Brad were having a conversation with Natalia, Zarina and two people Faith didn’t immediately recognize. 

Zarina spotted her however, and Natalia excused them as they made their way over. 

“Nickolayevna!”

“Zdravstvuyte, tetya Zarina. Vy khorosho otdokhnuli segodnya dnem?”

(Hello, Aunt Zarina. Did you get some good rest this afternoon?)

“YA sdelal, moy golub'. V etot vecher ty vyglyadish' ochen' krasivo. Krasnyy opredelenno tvoy tsvet, da?”

(I did, my dove. You look very beautiful this evening. Red is definitely your color, yes?)

“Yevgeniy to zhe samoye skazal!”

(Yevgeny said the same thing!)

They all shared a laugh at that. Zarina then patted Bruce on the cheek, as they kissed in greeting.

“Takoy krasivyy molodoy chelovek.”

(Such a handsome young man)

Bruce blushed slightly, but his smile was genuine was he replied with, “Vy mne l'stite, miledi.”

(You flatter me, my lady)

“Nichego podobnogo, molodoy chelovek! Vy nazovete menya tetey Zarinoy! YA ponyal?”

(None of that, young man! You will call me Aunt Zarina! Am I understood?)

“Dlya menya budet chest'yu.”

(I would be honored)

Bruce bowed humbly, earning another fond pat on his cheek, while Faith and Natalia were smirking knowingly at each other. 

Greetings and introductions were made for the next forty minutes or so, as everyone perused the food buffets and chose drinks like vodka, vzvar, medovukha and tea. At the dessert table there were many delicacies, and Faith’s eyes finally locked on the medovik with a wide happy smile. 

“Do you think it would be rude to head straight for the dessert table?” Faith asked Bruce seriously. 

“I don’t think anyone would hold it against you.”

“Cool!” She hurried over with purpose, while Bruce and Yevgeny watched on in amusement. 

John, who was standing near the table with Lari and Blair, grinned when he saw Faith heading their way. 

“You look like a woman on a mission.”

“And?” Faith challenged. “If you get in my way, I might have to _hurt_ you, John.”

“What are you after?”

“Medovik.”

“I don’t know that one.”

Faith gestured to the cake sitting in the middle of the table. 

“Russian cake made with honey and smetana. My babushka used condensed milk too. I used to sneak cans of condensed milk out of her cupboard when I was a young girl.”

Bruce, who had moved in behind her, grinned widely at the admission. 

“Now that’s an _interesting_ story.” 

Faith glanced over her shoulder and lifted a curious eyebrow and queried, “And why would that be?”

“Because I did the same thing as a child. Alfred would hide it on the top shelf, thinking that I wouldn’t climb up and sneak it, but I did.”

Faith’s expression _beamed_ , and John shook his head at how utterly perfect Faith and Bruce were for each other. 

“As if I didn’t need another reason to get drunk.”

“Don’t let me stop you, John.” Faith quipped. “Maybe it’ll make you more pleasant to be around.”

“Ouch!” 

John then chuckled, as he watched Faith being offered a generous slice from the server. The second she took a bite, a husky moan erupted from her mouth causing Bruce’s eyes to darken noticeably. 

Which only reinforced how utterly gone Gotham’s Prince was. 

“Gorgeous...”

“Hmmm?”

“ _Behave_.”

“Huh?”

Wide brown eyes filled with faux innocence stared back at Bruce, but he wasn’t having any of it. He moved over and wrapped a possessive arm around Faith’s waist at the same time she offered him a bite of her cake. 

He took her offering, their eyes never wavering as he chewed it and swallowed it down. 

“ _Delicious_.”

“Yep.” 

She took another bite and hummed in bliss, earning another heated look from her fiancé and several amused glances from their guests. 

“Ah, I see you’ve found your cake, Nickolayevna.” Yevgeny stated, as he came over and nodded to the server, who offered him a slice. 

“Mmhmm.” 

“Did you try any of the other dishes?”

Swallowing her cake, Faith shook her head. 

“Not yet. My sense of smell these days gets set off by the most random things.”

“Ah! I can see why that might be an issue.” 

“No sausage or bacon, which sucks because I used to love bacon and now I can’t eat it.”

She offered Bruce another bite of her cake, which he took immediately. 

“What other traditional Russian foods do you enjoy?”

“Used to love Solyanka, but that’s a no go anymore. Piroshki’s, Pelmeni and my babushka made Smettanik for my birthday every year. Vlad promised me, he’d have one made when I visit in November.”

“So, it’s easy to bribe you with sweets?”

“I’m more agreeable, sure.”

They all laughed. 

After Faith had finished her cake, a few people came over including Mikhail. 

“Your Grace? Are you familiar with any of the old Russian Folk Songs?”

“I am.”

“Oh? Perhaps you might join me in entertaining your guests?”

Faith shrugged but walked over to the piano, where another gentleman with an accordion was standing. The crowd gathered around as Mikhail sat down at the piano. 

“Which one do you know, Your Grace?”

“Well, my babushka and my mom taught me Katyusha when I was a young girl.”

“Excellent! A very good choice!”

Mikhail nodded to the man, who started to play the first chords of the Russian Folk song. And then Mikhail sang the first stanza. 

Rastsvetali yabloni i grushi,   
Poplyli tumany nad rekoy;   
Vykhodila na bereg Katyusha,   
Na vysokiy bereg, na krutoy. 

Vykhodila na bereg Katyusha,   
Na vysokiy bereg, na krutoy. 

Faith nodded and then sang the next part...and Bruce stood there stunned at how beautiful her voice was...

Vykhodila, pesnyu zavodila   
Pro stepnogo, sizogo orla,   
Pro togo, kotorogo lyubila,   
Pro togo, ch'i pis'ma beregla. 

Then they sang the chorus part together...

Pro togo, kotorogo lyubila,   
Pro togo, ch'i pis'ma beregla. 

Mikhail nodded to Faith, so she continued on to the next stanzas...

Oy, ty pesnya, pesenka devich'ya,   
Ty leti za yasnym solntsem vsled,   
I boytsu na dal'nem pogranich'e   
Ot Katyushi pereday privet. 

I boytsu na dal'nem pogranich'e   
Ot Katyushi pereday privet.

Pust' on vspomnit devushku prostuyu,   
Pust' uslyshit', kak ona poet,   
Pust' on zemlyu berezhet rodnuyu,   
A lyubov' Katyusha sberezhet. 

Pust' on zemlyu berezhet rodnuyu,   
A lyubov' Katyusha sberezhet. 

The accordion picked up here, and by now everyone was nodding and clapping along...

And then Faith encouraged everyone who knew the final words to join in...

Which they did with relish...

Rastsvetali yabloni i grushi,   
Poplyli tumany nad rekoy;   
Vykhodila na bereg Katyusha,   
Na vysokiy bereg, na krutoy. 

Vykhodila na bereg Katyusha,   
Na vysokiy bereg, na krutoy. 

(Apples and pears were blossoming   
Mist on the river floating   
On the bank Katyusha stepped out   
On the high steep bank 

Stepped out, started a song   
About one grey steppe eagle   
About her loved one   
Whose letters she cherished 

Oh song, maiden's song   
Fly towards the clear sun   
And to the warrior on a far away border   
Bring Katyusha's greeting

May he remember this simple maiden   
And hear her singing   
May he save our motherland   
And love, Katyusha will save 

Apples and pears were blossoming   
Mist on the river floating   
On the bank Katyusha stepped out   
On the high steep bank) 

  
When the song ended, everyone clapped, whistled and cheered and Mikhail stood up and bowed to Faith, who smiled and kissed his cheeks in the traditional manner. She was laughing and smiling, and Bruce thought in that second, she’d never looked more beautiful. 

“Is there anything she can’t do?” 

A deep voice said from beside him and Bruce glanced over his shoulder, to see Bart Bass standing there clapping, with a fond smile on his face. 

“No.” Bruce replied seriously. 

At that moment several tinkling of glasses were overheard in the room, and Yevgeny stepped forward, a proud grin on his face. 

“Friends!” He placed a hand up, and the crowd quieted for him. “I wanted to take this moment on behalf of Her Grace, to thank you all for coming this night and sharing in our joy at having our Nickolayevna returned to us. For many of us, who love our motherland and the traditions we hold so near and dear, this moment is a reaffirmation of those traditions. Nickolayevna wasn’t raised in Russia, as would’ve been her right as a Romanov. She was raised here, on the shores of this country—but even when faced with banishment, her prababushka instilled the importance of tradition and a love for Russia above all else. Today, we reaffirm that bond, and toast to the health and spirit of our Nickolayevna being returned to us. Please, raise your glasses and join with me in welcoming our star home to her motherland to where she belongs. To Nickolayevna!”

“To Nickolayevna!” The crowd chanted as one. 

Faith placed her hand over her heart in commiseration and then held it out for Bruce, who immediately joined her, next to Yevgeny. 

“It is also my esteemed honor to formally announce the engagement of Nickolayevna to Bruce Wayne. May your union be fruitful and blessed for many happy years to come.”

Everyone raised their glasses again, and Bruce cupped Faith’s cheek and kissed her sweetly, to the cheers of almost everyone. 

Faith couldn’t help but sense there were a few people in the crowd not exactly thrilled with the news. 

They could go and fuck themselves as far as she was concerned. 

For the rest of the night, she and Bruce were waylaid by many well-wishers. They said goodbyes to Zarina and Natalia, who needed to get her mother back to their hotel so she could rest. When they finally got around to John after most had left except Yevgeny and the owners who were upstairs in the private room—he was standing with Bart, Lily, Lari, Blair, Chuck and the three people Faith would’ve just as soon not seen at all. 

“You have such a lovely voice, my dear!” Lily smiled. 

“Thank you, Lily.”

“So, have you two set a wedding date yet?” Brad queried, which was clearly not the correct thing to ask etiquette wise, as even his girlfriend seemed rather embarrassed on his behalf.

“Not yet.” Bruce replied evenly, and Faith could feel his irritation spike. “I’d marry Faith tomorrow, if I thought she’d let me get away with it.”

Everyone chuckled, and while Faith knew Bruce was completely serious, she could sense some hostile feelings that his words had evoked. 

“If it was me, I’d probably be thinking the exact same thing.” Bart quipped easily, as he winked at Faith. 

“Watch yourself, Bass.” Bruce warned darkly. 

Bart chuckled and put both his hands up in submission. 

“Just joking, Wayne.”

By the look on Bruce’s face, it was clear he wasn’t buying that one at all. 

“You _two_ ,” Lily admonished, before she turned to Faith with a wicked gleam in her eye, “Did you bring that tape measure, Dear?”

Bart glowered, while John snorted out a guffaw and Bruce rolled his eyes. 

“Really, Gorgeous? You just had to _share_ that with Lily?”

“Who? Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Eh, between you three it’s a wonder this hasn’t been discussed before.”

“You know, that’s an excellent point.” Lily hummed in agreement, causing all the men in question to groan helplessly. “I’ve had to put up with you three acting like this for _years_...”

“That’s not true, Lily.” Bruce hummed out in challenge. “I was gone for seven years, so I can’t claim to be a part of any of the high school rivalry these two have going on.”

“And just where did you travel to, Mr. Wayne?” Miranda interrupted with interest. 

Hazel eyes settled on dark black ones, and Bruce smiled disingenuously. “Southeast Asia, mostly.”

“That’s an interesting part of the world,” she replied blithely, “did you have a favorite place?”

“No, not really,” Bruce admitted with a casual shrug, “it was all very educational, though.”

“Oh? And what truths did you find in your time there?”

Bruce pretended to think about it for a moment, before he shrugged noncommittally again. “Probably that things are rarely what they seem, but it’s important to _do what’s necessary_ to find your own path.”

Faith inwardly smirked as she felt Miranda’s anger spike exponentially, and her back stiffened slightly too. Even her left hand twitched imperceptibly, but Faith caught it. 

So she was left handed...

“Sounds like a valuable life lesson.” She said coolly, at last. 

“All life lessons are important,” Bruce parlayed deeply, “some are just more important than others. You have to have priorities and stick to them. Don’t you agree?”

“I do.”

“Well, you seem like your heart’s in the right place, with all you do in trying to change peoples minds about the environment.” Faith spoke up.

“Miranda has always been rather singularly focused on her mission,” John piped in with a firm nod, “at least that was my experience.”

“Johnathan...” Miranda bantered with a slight upturn of her lips, “ _you_ made the decision to end our dalliance, not the other way around.”

“I did.” John admitted with a heavy sigh. “It’s kind of hard to maintain a relationship long distance, Miranda. Our last trip to Uzbekistan made me see that pretty clearly.” He took a sip of his wine and then asked almost as an afterthought, “Did you ever get that scientist...what was his name?”

Faith almost laughed out loud at the anger coming off Miranda, as she tried valiantly to appear unaffected by John’s words. 

“Johnathan...”

“Pavel.” John snapped his fingers and nodded to himself. “Leonid, right?”

“ _Yes_.” Miranda gritted. 

“Did he ever get that idea off the ground? What was it again?”

All eyes turned to Miranda, and Faith was almost bouncing up and down at how pissed the woman’s emotions were underneath her seemingly calm facade. 

“Johnathan...that information was _privileged_.”

“Oh?” John’s face fell sheepishly. “ _Sorry_ , Miranda.”

The woman shook her head, and Faith was surprised when she sensed almost fond irritation from her. 

“It’s fine, Johnathan.”

“No, it’s not Randi...I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Faith had to admit, John Daggett was _good_...

She could even feel how impressed Bruce was with the man’s acting skills.

Miranda eyed him closely, and then chuckled fondly. “I had almost forgotten what a troublemaker you are.”

“Me?” John placed a hand over his heart, in a clear show of faux contrition. “I’d always thought you liked that about me?”

“It was endearing, at first.”

“Oh, and when did it stop being endearing, Randi?”

“Right around the time you came up with that atrocious nickname for me.”

Everyone laughed, including John as he wagged a challenging finger at his former girlfriend. 

“And yet you wouldn’t just call me John—instead, you had to use— _Johnathan_.”

Miranda seemed genuinely surprised. “Did it really bother you so much that I used your full name?”

John shrugged, but Faith could sense this topic was definitely a real bone of contention with John. 

“Maybe.” He admitted. “Kind of felt that you were trying to keep me at arms length.”

Dark eyes lifted in shock, and Faith could sense a real feeling of regret there, but she masked it quickly as she said, “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

“It’s fine, Miranda. It’s in the past, yes? Besides, I know you’d never do anything to intentionally hurt me, _right_?”

And there it was...

Faith felt two emotions pervade over Miranda Tate’s psyche in that moment...

Shame and guilt...

Which she viciously tamped down very quickly. 

“Of course I wouldn’t, Johnathan. You’ve always been important to me. Both you and Zacharias.”

Blue eyes fell quickly, and Faith knew that John was so close to losing it. She’d figured it was time to change the subject. 

“So, Miss Jolie mentioned your trip to Africa soon. I’m very curious about what you’re doing there with water conservation programs. She was kind enough to send us some information, but I was interested in your take on it too, Miss Tate.”

“Oh! Of course!” Miranda smiled in that way that Faith was realizing was her mask. They all listened to Miranda’s pitch and questions were parried back and forth for about twenty minutes. 

“When are you leaving?”

“We leave on Tuesday.”

“Ah!” Faith nodded. “Well, it’s a bit too soon for us to contribute, but perhaps you might send us some information while you’re on your trip as far as what you think might actually be needed from a real time perspective?”

“I’d be happy to do so.” Miranda nodded. 

“Great!” Faith replied cheerfully.

“Would you be interested in perhaps joining us on our next trip?”

“I’m afraid that’s not up to just me.” Faith responded quickly. 

“Oh?” Miranda glanced over at Bruce, but his demeanor gave nothing away. “Mr. Wayne is more than welcome, too?”

“No, it’s not that.” Faith offered. 

Bruce at that exact moment moved behind Faith and cupped her stomach possessively, his face fierce and forbidding. Faith covered his hands with her own, the intent very clear. 

So clear, that it was unmistakable.

And Faith smirked when she felt both Miranda’s annoyance, and Angelina’s irritation. 

She didn’t even want to unpack Brad Pitt’s emotional disappointment and defeat...

“Oh!” Miranda cleared her throat. “I suppose congratulations are in order?”

“Thanks.” Faith responded with a fake, insincere smile. “After what happened with the Joker in Gotham, my doctor would like me to stay close to home.”

“Ah, yes...I did read about that.”

“Yes, the man was a certifiable _lunatic_ but he’s dead now. He went...” and Faith made the explosion signs with both of her hands...causing Miranda’s eyes to widen, while Bruce’s mouth quirked up in amusement. 

“That must’ve been quite traumatic for you.” Angelina offered, with a sarcastic edge to her voice. 

“Not really, I’ve had worse.” Faith replied candidly.

“ _Excuse me?”_

Angelina’s green eyes widened, as she glanced over in irritation at her boyfriend, who couldn’t seem to hold in his inappropriate questions. 

“Oh, I’ve almost been blown up before.” Faith shrugged, completely non-plussed. “Stabbed, shot at...” Faith listed off a litany of different things on her fingers, ignoring the startled looks from everyone, but she could also feel the amusement, shock, disbelief, wonder and disgust from a few of those present. 

Bruce’s emotions however, were part exasperated and part indulgent. 

Lily glanced over at Bart, who just seemed to be enjoying this. She knew cursorily, that Faith had worked for a private security firm, but she had to wonder just how dangerous her previous profession had been. 

“And just what kind of work did you do, Your Grace?” 

Miranda quizzed insincerely, and Faith smirked again, as she leant back into Bruce’s welcoming embrace. 

“I worked for a private security firm out of London.”

“Oh, would I know it?”

“Probably not. We tend to specialize in unique problems.”

“Such as?”

“This and that. You know how your work with Leonid Pavel is rather hush-hush?”

Miranda nodded. 

“It’s kinda like that.” Faith winked, causing Bruce to chuckle deeply behind her. “You understand, _yes_?”

“I think I do.”

“Working in private security, you must’ve been trained in different forms of protection and combat?” Angelina segued and Faith nodded. 

“Yes.”

“I had the chance in the last film I did, to work with a rather talented marital arts specialist. He was quite good at teaching different techniques. Which ones are you familiar with?”

“All of them.”

“Excuse me?” Brad blurted out again, and Faith giggled. 

“Our training is _very_ comprehensive.”

“But you can’t be much older than mid-twenties?” Angelina challenged. 

“True, but I started my training at sixteen.”

Angelina’s eyes widened, before she scoffed softly. 

“How would that have been possible?”

“Long story.” Faith quipped, before she cocked her head and the woman and grinned. “You don’t believe me?”

“Honestly, no.”

“Fair enough. How about we play a little game?”

“ _Gorgeous_...”

“Oh stop it, Krasivyy! Don’t ruin my fun!”

Bruce sighed and titled his head up and mumbling something under his breath, while Bart and John grinned at how exasperated Wayne looked. 

“Are you good with throwing a knife?”

Angelina nodded. “Very good.”

“Excellent!” Faith purred, lifting up her dress and pulling out her silver knife to the shocked looks of everyone but Bruce, who was shaking his head now. She twirled it expertly in her hand and walked towards the actress and then handed it over. 

“Let’s see how good you are.” Faith challenged, and Angelina swallowed at the sudden change in demeanor from the Romanov Heiress. She gingerly took the knife and gazed back into dark brown eyes, that were filled with nothing but amused disdain. 

Angelina watched, as Faith Lehane sauntered over towards the other side of the room—and in that instant, she hurtled the knife right at her back. 

What happened next completely floored her, because in that split second, Faith turned around and caught the knife in between her hands...right in front of her chest. When her eyes lifted and made contact, Angelina saw a darkness there she couldn’t define. 

Faith twirled the knife in her hand again, gliding back over and cocking her head, as if she was observing a novelty that she found completely ordinary and mundane. 

She then slipped the knife back into her garter and grinned malevolently, while Bruce just folded his arms over his chest...clearly not pleased with the turn of events. 

“Don’t frown, Krasivyy...you’ll ruin your pretty face.”

John and Bart snickered, while Lily just shook her head...

Chuck, Blair and Lari—all seemed to be stunned speechless.

Faith however, just smirked and chirped, “Believe me _now_?”

Angelina didn’t know how to respond. She had sensed there was something different about Faith Lehane earlier that day, and after talking with Brad and realizing who this woman was to him—it had made her feel a myriad of emotions. 

A woman who had managed to win the heart of one of the richest, most fascinating men in the world. Bruce Wayne...well, there was something dark, primal and intriguing about him. Angelina had noticed him instantly at the charity event that she’d attended in Gotham two years ago, and had spent the better part of the evening just watching him from afar. She had trained with enough martial arts masters and stuntmen to know how a man, who had spent years training his body and mind, held himself. 

Restrained aggression, a former sensei had explained. 

And Bruce Wayne, had that in spades. 

The sex appeal that wafted off the man was just as heady as having sex with him had been. He’d been relentless in how he’d taken her, and for all of her control issues—and her more than stellar reputation in the bedroom? 

Bruce Wayne had rocked her world. 

The morning after their marathon of fucking, he’d gotten dressed and thanked her for a wonderful night. She’d given him her number (a gesture he’d returned) and subsequently, never heard from him again until she’d called him not too long ago. 

And it had grated on her...

Then she’d met Brad, soon after her night with Bruce, and had decided to pursue him. Even knowing that there had been someone else whom had already introduced him to the world of submission before she’d gotten her hooks into him, hadn’t been a deterrent. 

Because being the kind of woman she was, it simply hadn’t been a concern, nor had she felt threatened by a nameless, faceless woman...even if Brad had a tattoo on his hip, that was some kind of tribute to his time with her. 

But the woman—was no longer nameless, nor faceless. 

She was standing right in front of her...

Her dark eyes glittering with a raw savage intensity, and her sex appeal even more potent than her own...

And her power was tangible...

_Restrained aggression..._

Glancing over at Bruce, he was watching with that same veiled intensity that had sucked her in two years ago, except his gaze wasn’t fixated on her at all...

It was solely fixated on his fiancée. 

There was a raw primal hunger and an overwhelming desire there, and not for the first time? 

Angelina felt that stab of white hot jealousy keenly, spike throughout her body...

And then Faith Lehane’s lips quirked, as if she could sense where her thoughts and emotions had gone. 

“I believe you.” She said at last. 

“Cool.” Faith purred and winked, before sauntering back over to Bruce, her hips swaying with purpose and the second she was within arms reach? Bruce pulled her to him possessively and nipped at her neck.

“I think it’s _time_.” Bruce demanded lowly, and Faith nodded. 

“Sounds like a plan.” She then turned and smiled sweetly at everyone. “Thank you all for coming tonight! We really do appreciate it. Miss Tate, if you and Miss Jolie wouldn’t mind hanging back a bit? I had a few more questions to ask about that water conservation program.”

“Of course, Your Grace. We’d be happy to.” Miranda said warily.

“Cool!”

Lily moved over and kissed her cheeks with relish. “It was my pleasure, Dear. Thank you for having us.” She then leant over and whispered into Faith’s ear, “I think you managed to put her into her proper place, yes?”

Faith leant back and smirked, as Lily chuckled softly. “Let’s keep in touch, yes?”

“Of course, Dear.”

The blonde woman kissed Bruce’s cheeks and nodded to him as she left, with her husband following closely at her heels. He’d just winked and nodded to them both as he walked out with their daughter. 

Lari and Blair showered kisses and hugs, and Bruce whispered in Blair’s ear that he would be calling her soon. She nodded eagerly and left. 

John just patted Bruce on the shoulder, earning a glare for his troubles while Faith smirked at him too. Bart however, looked bored. 

Faith glanced up at Bruce and he bowed his head in silent understanding and in that moment, Faith called out for Willow...

The portal opened and Willow walked through, just as Buffy and Angel moved out from the back room. 

“What?!”

“Miranda dear,” Faith purred, “you’ve been a _naughty_ girl.”

The woman’s gaze narrowed and as she went to mount an attack, Buffy moved over and took her down. 

Faith then glowered at Brad and Angelina. 

“You both overstepped today. Whether it was your intention to try and blackmail me, I’m afraid that I can’t allow the possibility.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Angelina gritted out. 

“Ah, yes. Now we get to the truth.” She then pulled out her zip ties from her bag and threw them to Buffy who bound Miranda’s hands behind her back. 

“You see, myself, along with my counterpart there—are part of an elite special forces unit tasked to fight really bad guys. Miranda here...or should I call you Talia?”

Miranda’s head whipped up in shock. 

“Yeah, thought so.” Faith snarked, as she knelt down and said dangerously, “You went after one of my sisters. Tried to brainwash her into doing your bidding? New flash, it didn’t work and now you’re going to tell me how to find your friend, Bane.”

“ _Fuck you.”_

“Oh, you’re too cute.” 

Faith glanced up at Willow and nodded. In that instant, Willow’s entire demeanor changed from the sweet elfin girl, to the blackened, veiny witch. 

“Hello, Talia.”

“Shit, what are you?”

“I’m a witch, and you’re going to help me.”

“Like hell I will.”

“Of course you will.”

Willow waved her hand and froze Miranda before moving over and pulling out a syringe—injecting Miranda with the same compound she’d used on Violet...just much, much stronger. 

All thanks to Lucius Fox.

It took about three minutes for it to hit her system and when it did, Miranda’s eyes glazed over and Willow released her from the binding spell. 

John then knelt down and said in his most conciliatory tone, “Hey, Randi.”

“Johnathan?”

“Yes, it’s me. I need you to help me, darling...can you do that?”

“Of course, Johnathan.”

“Good. Tell me what your access code is to your financial accounts?”

“It’s 72469810.”

“Good.” John purred before he asked, “Why did you go after Zacharias?”

“Because he was the easiest way to get to you.”

“I see.” John gritted out. “And who helped you?”

“Your board members...” and she listed off their names. 

“What did you offer them?”

“I didn’t. I blackmailed them.”

“And where is that information?”

“In my safe, in my penthouse in Paris.”

John glanced up to Angel and he pulled out his phone. 

“Access code?”

“44370.”

“And to the safe?”

“616300987.”

Angel called his contact in Paris and gave him the information. 

“Good. Where’s Bane, Randi?”

It was the first time that Miranda seemed to be trying to resist the serum, and Faith could feel her emotions spike. 

She leant down and whispered to John, “Ask her if he’s here in New York?”

“Did Bane come with you to New York?”

“Yes.”

“Did he give you something to bring tonight?”

Miranda nodded and pulled out a vial from her purse.

“What’s this?”

“Crane’s drug.”

John opened the vial and noticed it was empty. “Who’s drink did you spike with this?”

“Bruce Wayne.”

Faith’s worried gaze shot to Bruce’s, and he shook his head. 

“We’ve been inoculated, Gorgeous.”

Faith’s expression darkened noticeably, but she nodded briefly and waved her hand at John to get on with it. 

John handed the vial to Willow, as he pulled out a city map from his suit jacket and said softly, “Can you use this to find him?”

Willow smiled and nodded, while Buffy just kissed John on the top of his head in appreciation.

Folding out the map, Willow floated the vial, and scryed for Bane. It only took a minute, and when it stopped, Bruce noted that the location was only two blocks away.

Faith picked up the map and stared at it intently, her face furrowed in thought. 

“Faith?” Angel asked. “What is it?”

“Willow, can this map tell the difference between above and below ground?”

Bruce and Bart smirked in appreciation, as Willow shook her head. 

“No.”

Whipping out her phone, Faith searched the location on the internet and grimaced. 

“The location houses a building that has over thirty floors.”

She then punched in a few more things into the search bar, and a map of the New York City subway came up on her phone. She crossed referenced the location and sighed. 

“There are two lines that run parallel under that part of New York.”

John turned to Miranda and said softly, “Does Bane prefer to stay out of sight?”

“Yes.”

“Underground?”

“Yes.”

“How many people does he have with him?”

Miranda’s face pinched, but she eventually said, “Twenty.”

“Do they all have weapons?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you go to sleep, Randi. I’ll wake you in the morning, okay?”

“Alright, Johnathan.” 

When she passed out on the floor, John picked her up and moved her over to a small couch and settled her in, while Buffy, Willow and Faith were having a silent, three-way confab.

When they were done, Faith asked, “And how are we going to go about doing this?”

Buffy sighed and then went into the back room and came out a few moments later with Violet and Rona at her heels. Faith’s eyes widened in surprise, then she noted that both girls had bags that they were carrying with them. 

“Hey, kid.” Faith smirked at Violet. 

“Hey, Faith.”

“This is your call, Vi.”

Violet glanced over at Rona, who was agitated but she just shrugged helplessly. 

“I can’t tell you what to do, Vi.”

Violet turned back to Faith and said slowly, “Buffy said I could be part of the enjoining, if I didn’t want to take on Bane myself.”

“And you’re really okay with that?”

“Yeah, I know you think I need to do this, Faith—but I’ll be okay.”

Faith turned to Buffy and said, “So I guess it’s down to you or me?”

“Actually,” Buffy cleared her throat and tried her best to ignore Bruce’s glowering look, “it’s down to you, or Rona. Since Giles isn’t here, the only ones who know the Sumerian are myself and Willow—and she needs to do the Wiccan mojo to activate the spell.”

Nodding in understanding, Faith bit her lip and gazed at her fiancé, who didn’t look very happy at all. She then turned to Angel and Rona and said playfully, “You both in or out?”

“Oh, I’m definitely coming with you.”

“Me too.” Rona stepped forward then, and handed Faith the bag she’d been carrying. “We were able to get this for you.”

Faith sighed and took the bag, ignoring Bruce’s glare and heightened emotional state, as she strode towards the back room to get changed. A few moments later she walked out dressed in her cat woman outfit, and both Angelina and Brad hissed in sudden comprehension.

“You’re the Gotham vigilante?”

Faith turned dark eyes on them both and smiled widely. 

“At your service.”

The actress then turned to Bruce, and her gaze narrowed noticeably, before it paled—mouth dropping in a stunned ‘ _Oh_ ’ as Bruce smirked back wickedly. 

“ _You’re him?”_

Bruce bowed his head, but didn’t reply verbally, as he really didn’t need to at this point. 

“Why are you telling us this?” Brad asked stunned, as he kept staring at Faith and not doing a very good job hiding his reaction to her change in appearance.

If the dark sneer Bruce was now sending his way was any indication, Gotham’s Prince was hanging on by a very slim thread in his own desire to pummel the guy.

“Well, that’s simple,” Faith purred as she moved towards Angelina with a predatory gleam in her eye, “you’re both famous, which means you’re useful in a completely _non useful way._ Let’s just say you might have access to people and places that we might need in the future.”

“So you’re going to use us?”

“Well...yeah.” Faith quirked her lips and licked them with relish, causing the woman in front of her to flinch. “ _You’re welcome.”_

She turned to Bruce and winked, and he chuckled and shook his head at their own private joke. 

“How much time, Red?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m sublevel.”

Following his fiancée, Bruce reached for Faith’s arm and halted her from leaving the room. He spun her into him and placed a demanding kiss on her lips, which she returned with equal veracity. When they finally pulled back simultaneously, Faith glanced down forlornly at her engagement ring and slid it reluctantly off her finger, placing it into Bruce’s suit pocket with a firm pat, noticing his own expression was now openly displeased. 

“Keep it safe for me?”

He sighed, and then nodded once, before cupping her cheeks within his hands and whispering lowly, “Come back to me.”

“Always, you know this.”

Taking a purposeful step back, Bruce caught Angel’s eye, the vampire’s expression sympathetic as he and Rona followed Faith off into the night. 

When his attention fell back onto the room, Bruce noted that Willow, Buffy and Violet were busy setting up a perimeter circle with various things that Violet was pulling from the bag she’d brought. Yevgeny at that moment, had decided to come back down and nodded to Bruce, as John and Bart came over to stand next to Gotham’s Prince. 

“She’s going to be okay.” 

John murmured to which Bruce replied with a firm, “I know, because I can’t allow myself to think otherwise.” 

It was about twenty minutes later when Willow’s eyes darkened and she hummed out, “It’s time.” She extended her hands out, and the Scythe appeared into the center of the circle...

Willow then began to chant out the spell...

“ _The Power of the Slayer and all who wield it  
Last to ancient First we invoke thee  
Grant us thy domain and primal strength  
Accept us and the Powers we possess  
Make us mind and heart and spirit enjoined  
Let the hand encompass us. Do thy will.   
By the generous will of the Ancients, the almighty power of the Divine Spirits  
Your supplicants humbly beseech thee to behold us, and that which we possess..._

_The moieties of the One, the Avatar.”_

Then Willow took out the Tarot Cards, taking the first card herself and stating clearly...

“ _Spiritus...Spirit.”_

She then handed Violet the next card, the young Slayer saying clearly...

“ _Amimus...Heart.”_

Buffy was given the final card as she called out...

“ _Sophus...mind.”_

Then Willow followed with...

“ _And Manus...the hand..._

_We enjoin that we may inhabit the vessel, the hand...  
Daughter of Sineya  
First of the Ones  
We implore thee: admit us  
Bring us to the vessel  
Take us Now!_

_We are heart...we are mind...we are spirit  
From the raging storm...  
We bring power to the Primeval One.”_

In that instant the three of them threw their heads back as the Scythe activated and as before...a mist shimmered above the circle allowing all those within the room to see what was happening as the spell shuddered through Faith...

Her position was inside an underground tunnel, with Bane standing directly in front of her and twenty guns trained on her position from above...

“Miss Lehane...the _Slayer_...you shouldn’t have come. You are no match for the power of the League of Shadows.”

Faith’s voice reverberated with the echo of Buffy, Violet and Willow’s voices within the enclosure as she replied, “ _ **We are, we are forever...”**_

“ _Shaminenden...  
gashtumienden...  
zumienden...  
okushtameulabatumaduen...”_

Bane lifted his hand and in the split seconds before a hail fire of bullets came raining down on Faith, her voice stated the word “ _Amanshandal_...” clearly...

The hundreds of bullets dissolved onto the magical barrier, and Bruce could see Bane cocking his head at Faith, as he gritted out in his own vibrating voice...

“Interesting.”

He then lifted his hand up again to have his men open fire for a second time, but Faith simultaneously did likewise, and flexed her hand...

...turning all his men into bats...

The sound of their flapping wings as their guns fell to the ground, had Bane commenting almost fearfully...

“ _Very interesting.”_

Faith wasted no time going in on the attack. She moved into Bane’s space, and he instantly went on the offensive, but Faith twisted her body away and around from his punches before she took the offensive back. When he threw a desperate right cross, she blocked it with one hand before she gave three blistering punches to the head and knocking him back with the force of her blows.

Bane tried to land another punch, and Faith blocked it again—giving him a roundhouse kick to the chest, which knocked him back at good five feet, landing Bane onto his knees. When he flung his arm back in defense, Faith grabbed it and twisted in underneath his body, simultaneously grasping his neck into a fierce choke hold.

“Impossible...” Bane breathed in shock. “How can _you_?”

Faith’s voice reverberated once again into the open space as she replied, “You can never hope to grasp the source of our Power.” 

She then flung Bane through the air, his body doing a complete somersault into the pavement, as she slammed him back the the ground and gave him a series of blistering punches to the face and body, before she grabbed for his mask and pulled.

Bane tried to stop her, but he simply wasn’t powerful enough and Faith ripped the mask from his face...

...effectively rendering him defeated. 

She took the mask and eyed it curiously, saying with her otherworldly voice tinged with amusement, “But yours is right _here_.”

Bane collapsed completely, crumpling in on himself as everyone watched the unfolding scene with awe. Faith lifted her hands and the mask and Bane floated into the room in front of her, as she said the final words of the Sumerian spell...

“ _Tamealaubmadeun...  
amanshandal.”_

With that, a portal opened in the ether causing Bane and his mask to vanish from being. 

Bruce saw Angel walking towards Faith, his voice calling her name as he tilted her head up...her eyes glowing reddish orange and in that second, her body sagged and the spell broke...

The Scythe deactivated, and all three in the enjoining circle breathed out on a singular exhalation, Violet gasping out in wonder, “That was... _Wow_!”

“Willow?” Bruce pleaded softly, “Faith?”

Closing her eyes, Willow called out for Faith and it only took a moment before she smiled and said impishly, “Five by five.”

And Bruce shook his head fondly, chuckling deeply in relief. 

His eye then caught the startled ones of Angelina and Brad, and he sauntered over taking an offensive stance, as he considered them carefully. 

“You’ve both crossed the line today, Faith was right. She may see a use for you, but I _don’t_. However, I’m willing to defer to her, but we will be doing this my way...Willow?”

The witch came over and magically bound the two people, with a wicked smile upon her face. 

“You’re now bound and therefore, can’t ever share of what occurred here tonight without some nasty consequences. Now someone remove them from my sight, before my Slayer returns.”

Bruce stormed away, heading towards the back of the bar to grab himself a stiff drink. 

He was immediately followed by smirking Yevgeny.

The Russian considered the man before him, the man who had won the heart of Nickolayevna and he had to admit...

... _they were perfectly suited for each other._

“It I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes, I might’ve not believed it.” Yevgeny admitted.

Bruce knocked back a shot of vodka, and winced at the unexpected burn before he nodded thoughtfully and replied...

“I would have to agree with that sentiment.”

“What now?”

Glancing at the older gentlemen critically, Bruce gestured towards the vodka, but Yevgeny shook his head in the negative.

“I believe you made a sincere offer from before, or was I mistaken in that regard?”

“No, you were not.”

“And how do I know that you can be trusted?”

Yevgeny sat down on the stool nearest to him and took his own measure of the man across from him. A man, who had trained for seven years with the League of Shadows, who had defeated Ra’s al Ghul himself. 

Who had become a symbol of fear in Gotham’s underground and had done all he could to avenge his parents deaths.

“Politics are complicated as you’re aware, Bruce. For all my pandering to obtain my position, it’s not without cost. Russia is my home, it is where my loyalty lays. The history of my people is complicated and filled with bloodshed, but there is much that remains wonderful about it. The current oligarchy is just a different version of the same system that’s been in place for over fifty years. Vladim, would seek to exalt himself to a King, in everything but name. He cares for Russia, but he desires power more.”

“Then why support Faith’s claim to the Romanov dynasty?”

“Because he is a smart man. He would seek to use Nickolayevna for his own personal gain. There are many royalists within the regime. Many who would seek to have the old ways returned. Perhaps not exactly as before...”

“So, a blend of capitalism and the Parliamentary system?”

“Perhaps.” Yevgeny admitted with a casual shrug. “The people cry out for change. For something better than what they’ve been given. If I could make a suggestion?”

“Of course.”

“When you visit Russia in November, take some time and visit with the people. I think Nickolayevna will see for herself their reaction to her presence. You are a smart man, Bruce. I know you’ve offered some capital investment help to Vladim, but I would encourage you to use that leverage to make inroads into the oligarchy.”

“Are Vlad’s Ministers all loyal to him?”

“Some, but not all.”

“And you know which ones aren’t?”

“I have a fairly accurate idea.”

“And if Vladim were no longer in power, who would be his most likely successor?”

“There are several, myself included, who would be in a position to move into that role.”

“You?”

“Yes, but the truth is? I would not want that responsibility. It is easier to move in the shadows, if no one suspects where your true loyalties lay.”

“And that would be?”

“With Nickolayevna. After tonight, I’d be a fool, if I did not admit that she is the future of our motherland. She and the child she carries.”

Bruce averted his gaze, as he pondered what Yevgeny was saying. 

Eventually, he said lowly, “If you had asked Faith even a day ago, if she would’ve been open to playing this game, her answer likely would’ve been in the negative.”

“And what would it be today?”

Bruce’s hazel eyes locked with greenish-blue, and he smirked confidently. Yevgeny chuckled and nodded in reply. 

“I see. Was there an impetus for this sudden change?”

“Perhaps, but it’s not my place to share the exact particulars...at least not yet. I’ll talk to Faith, and see how she feels about all of this.”

“Please do. I would imagine Zarina and Natalia had a thing or two to share with Nickolayevna.”

“They did. Zarina was quite informative.”

“She wasn’t alive when her Uncle was killed, but she would remember enough from her mother to understand what had happened, and felt the sting of banishment keenly.”

“I get the impression she hasn’t been to Russia?”

“Not to my knowledge. Historically, the Romanov’s haven’t been welcomed by the Government. This has been largely due to the various factions of the sisters of Czar Nicholas, laying claim to the ‘ _true_ ’ lineage. With Nickolayevna’s return, there is no longer a dispute of who’s line has more claim. She is the true heir. The _only_ heir.”

“Are there any who might take exception to her right of succession?”

“I don’t believe so. If anything, the branches will be eager to see what she will do with the Romanov status being returned, at least cursorily. How inclusive she is to those within the family, will go a long way in bringing the factions onside.”

“What if there was a direct acknowledgment?”

“From whom?”

Bruce cocked an eyebrow, as Yevgeny swallowed heavily and paled slightly. 

“How would that be?” He whispered.

“I honestly don’t understand all of it myself, Yevgeny. But, let’s just speak in hypotheticals for now. If somehow, it became known that Czar Nicholas had some foreknowledge of his descendants?”

Eyes that now glistened a brighter green were alight with wonder, as the Russian thought about all the ramifications of such a thing. 

“It would be somewhat dependent on how that information was passed along. Verbally or in written form?”

Bruce didn’t reply, nor give away any of what he knew—but watched the man across from him contemplate the possibilities. 

“If it was verbal, and Zarina shared such a story from her Mother, it might carry some weight—but not enough to potentially change the minds of those who might be leaning one way versus another.”

“And if it was written down?”

Yevgeny whooshed out a stunned breath, and then ran both hands down his face...

...and Bruce could see the man’s repressed emotions surging. 

“ _If_ it was in writing, and _if_ it was verified to be in his hand?” Yevgeny shook his head again, “It might just be the impetus needed to change minds and hearts.”

Bruce was about to comment, when he heard the click-clack of heels on the floor coming up behind him. He noticed Yevgeny’s smile and turned around in a flash, grinning in relief at his gorgeous fiancée, who returned his loving expression with one of her own. 

His body immediately gravitated towards her’s, and as soon as she was within reach, Bruce lifted Faith up into his arms and kissed her breathless. 

It was minutes before they broke their passionate embrace, their foreheads touching, their eyes locking in devotion, as they breathed each other in. 

“You were _amazing_.” He whispered out in awe. 

“I had a lot of help, but thanks.”

Setting her down, Bruce took Faith’s ring out of his pocket and placed it right back where it belonged. Her sigh of pleasure, filled his heart to bursting—and let him know that she was as committed to their future as he was. 

Then Daggett had to ruin the moment. 

“Are you two done fawning all over each other yet?”

“I’m so going to _ruin_ him.” Bruce grumbled deeply, causing Faith to snicker in amusement.

“John...”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” Faith snarked, allowing Bruce to lead her back into the room where everyone was waiting. 

When she saw Violet, she went over and gave the younger Slayer and pat on the shoulder. 

“Are you alright?”

“Five by five, Mom.”

“Fuck you, kid.” Faith bit back playfully, her smile softening the bite of her words. Faith’s gaze then landed on the unconscious woman laying on the small sofa, and her expression shifted. 

“What are we going to do about her?”

John was standing near Buffy, who was watching him with concern. 

“I have an idea.” Angel offered and both John and Bruce seemed stunned. 

“Oh?” John queried. “Did your guy come through with the stuff from her apartment?”

“Not yet, but I have no doubt the strike team I sent in will clear out any necessary information. You want to go after the League’s money, and Miranda’s financials, but even if you’re successful...”

“We will be.” John interrupted and Angel scowled, but didn’t take the bait. 

“Even if you bankrupt her, she likely has resources out there we aren’t aware of. Are you planning on killing her?”

“I’m not an executioner, Mr. Angel,” John growled, “I want her to _suffer_ , I won’t deny it but I’ve seen enough killing in my life.”

“Then she needs to be removed, in the practical sense.”

“What did you have in mind, Angel?” Faith inquired. 

“I was able to find out the story of how Bane became Talia’s protector.”

“And?” Buffy asked. 

“In the third world,” Angel began, “Ra’s had worked as a scientist, before he’d fallen in love and married the daughter of a clan leader in Khasmir. Ra’s was thrown into prison for it, a literal pit called a hell on earth. His wife eventually took his place, bartered for his life but she was pregnant. Ra’s was told she’d been killed, but it was a lie. His wife, Melisande, gave birth to Talia in the pit. She was killed when Talia was a young girl, and Bane protected her from the other prisoners. Eventually, Talia escaped the pit, and found her father—who returned and rescued Bane from the vicious beating he’d suffered after Talia’s escape. They joined Ra’s League, after Bane was saved due to some questionable practices. It was those experiments, that were the basis for the initiative you faced in College, Buffy. They used a super serum, that was procured from a demon. It changed Bane, and in time, when Ra’s realized he couldn’t control him anymore? He excommunicated Bane, and Talia followed.”

“Shit.” John sat down and stared at Miranda, several emotions registering over his countenance. He then shook his head and said bitterly, “It doesn’t excuse what she allowed to happen to Zac.”

“No it doesn’t,” Buffy agreed, glancing at Angel and humming in understanding, “You want to send her back to the pit?”

John whipped his head up, his eyes widening in surprise.

“What would keep her from escaping again?” Faith demanded.

“Willow could bind her.” Buffy postulated, and Willow nodded in agreement. 

“Wolfram and Hart has someone from the original clan, who could make it so she can’t escape the pit, and no one can rescue her from it.”

“That might be easier,” Willow admitted, “someone who has a connection to the land, could make the spells more potent.”

“That’s what he thought as well.” Angel agreed. 

“Won’t people ask when she goes missing?” Bruce wondered aloud, “I’m sure she has allies out there who will continue to look for her?”

“Once it becomes public knowledge she’s bankrupt, those who have used her less than savory contacts for money laundering will move onto the next source,” John surmised, “Did you finish your end, Wayne?”

“Yes, the dummy accounts are ready to go. I’d imagine Bart here, is chomping at the bit.”

“I am.”

“Pavel is off limits.” Bruce said at last. 

“Why?”

“Because he has a connection to Russia, and that’s all you need to know.” Bruce gritted out. “I told you both, the Paris branch and assets are mine, as is the green technology assets. Anything else, you and Bart can quibble over and I don’t have to work with either of you directly. No offense, Bart.”

“None taken, Wayne.” 

John bristled however, but then felt Buffy’s hand on his arm and the firm shake of her head, warning him to let it go. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re going after someone who’s research has been proven to be inconclusive at best.”

“That’s _my_ business,” Bruce parlayed, “and that’s all I’m going to say on the subject.” He then pulled Faith into his side and said firmly, “I take it you’ll want to do the honors?” 

John nodded. “I want to see her face when she realizes why she lost everything.”

“I didn’t know you had that kind of rage in you, John.”

“Well, Wayne? Now you do.”

“The sedative Lucius used will knock her out for at least a day, maybe longer. Monday morning when the markets open, we’ll have her access code and fingerprints. As for the rest of the information? Angel? Is your team planning on bringing it here?”

“I’ve asked them to bring it to Gotham, as soon as they have possession of it.”

“Good. And Pavel?”

Angel smirked. “We got to him last night.”

Bruce’s face broke out into a wicked smug grin, causing Faith to nudge him petulantly. 

“You have some explaining to do, Krasivyy.”

“I know,” he cupped her cheek tenderly, “let’s get back to the hotel and I’ll tell you all about my plans.”

Violet sighed like a lovesick teenager, causing Faith to roll her eyes and Buffy to giggle, before her face scrunched with confusion.

“Where did Rona go off to?”

“On the way down to Bane’s hideout, we sensed a vampire nest. She decided to handle it on her own.”

“How many?” Violet asked worriedly.

“Maybe a dozen.” 

Bart and John were stunned as the former asked seriously, “She’s going to kill a dozen vampires on her _own?_ How does she know where to go?”

“Rona lives here in New York, this is her domain. She’s almost as good as me and B, when it comes to slaying. She’s...Rona doesn’t have a family anymore. So this, is what she is now.” 

“Are her parents dead?” Bart asked, and noticed that all the slayers didn’t reply, leaving him to wonder just what the deal was. But before he could dwell on it any further, Faith had caught Buffy’s gaze and the two of them looked to be sharing a private conversation, at the end of which, Buffy nodded and said simply, “I think that might be a good idea.”

“What?” John, Bart and Bruce demanded simultaneously.

“Oh, no!” Faith wagged her finger in Bruce’s face, causing him to nip at it in retaliation. “You keep your little secrets, and I’ll keep mine.”

“Gorgeous...” 

“Nope! Not doing this with you right now, Wayne. Hotel...bedroom...fucking...no talking...”

Everyone was smiling widely and laughing, while Bruce just cocked a menacing eyebrow and shook his head in warning. 

Faith was fairly certain she’d pay for her impudence later, and she was _so_ okay with that fact. 


	57. Not Another One?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their last day in New York, Bruce and Faith enjoy their time with family and friends, and an unexpected past exploit resurfaces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters are not mine, nor are any real or fictional based on actual real persons or events...

Sunday morning Faith woke up, purring contentedly as she spooned her backside more firmly into her fiancé. His answering deep hum of contentment was music to her ears. 

“Good morning, Gorgeous.”

“Hey.” 

She moaned, stretching like a cat, as she rubbed her ass into Bruce’s aching erection. 

“Aren’t you sore?” He whispered deeply into her ear. 

“A bit, but not enough to stop you from using your spectacular dick to fuck me right now.”

“Mmmm, I think that can be arranged.” 

He lifted her left leg over his, and ran his arousal through her already drenched folds. 

“You’re already soaked.”

“Yes...because this is what you do to me.”

Bruce’s deep, satisfied chuckle rumbled on the back of her neck as he pushed himself inside of her from behind...her back arching in satisfaction at the welcomed intrusion. 

“Fuck, this _never_ gets old.” 

Faith whispered out in wonder. 

“It doesn’t. It just gets _better_...”

“And better...” she finished, and proceeded to enjoy the ride as Bruce pounded into her with need. His hand settled over her clit, and he started to rub it between his index and middle fingers.

Her hand was clawing into his thigh, and her moans were pleading as Bruce continued to play her body like a fucking Stradivarius...

It didn’t take long until she was crying out his name, her pussy rippling over him like a vice—his strangled groan signaling his own release. 

“Gods!” Faith breathed out, spent. “If we didn’t have things to do today? I would vote we just spend the day in bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep,” she uttered throatily, “I’d be perfectly happy spending the entire day fucking you.”

“That sounds very, _very_ tempting.”

“I know, right?”

Bruce hummed in agreement, before he pulled out of her body and readjusted her, so that she was now cradled into his shoulder. 

“You know? With as much as we fuck each other? You’d have probably ended up pregnant sooner or later.”

Faith sat up and glared down at Bruce’s smirking face. She smacked his chest in mock indignation. 

“Wow! How romantic!”

He snorted, but his wide smile belied his bad joke. 

“I spoke with Yevgeny last night before you got back.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm,” Bruce pulled her back down a bit more firmly against himself, “He shared a few interesting truths with me.”

“And?”

“And, I think you need to decide before we go to Russia in November, just what role you want to play in the future of your country. I know you’re American by birth, Gorgeous...but to those within Russia, you are a Romanov. They are going to look to you now, whether it’s fair or not.”

“I know,” she sighed in defeat, “I suppose I was in denial about the truth, but after reading my prapraded’s letter, I can’t be anymore.”

“How do you think he knew about you and our son?”

“Magic? If Rasputin was some kind of magic user, and there have been rumors circling around that for a long time? I mean, even I’d heard about that when I was a child.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. My babushka used to tell me stories—but looking back on it now? I have to wonder how much of those stories were based in reality?”

Bruce stared up at the ceiling, as he silently asked himself that same question. 

Unfortunately, no answers were forthcoming. 

“Yevgeny seems to believe there are many within the current oligarchy that aren’t necessarily loyal to the current regime. I might’ve posed a hypothetical scenario to him as well.”

“Such as?”

“I didn’t expressly state that Nicholas had left any kind of correspondence, but I did ask what the reaction of those within the government would be if there was some kind of formal acknowledgement.”

Faith sat up all the way, and gazed down at Bruce—her expression inscrutable.

“Why would you have done that? What if he can’t be trusted?”

Bruce just cocked an eyebrow and said plainly, “Gorgeous? He witnessed your enjoining last night? Don’t you think for one second, if I’d thought he wasn’t on our side, I would’ve allowed him to see that?”

Faith grimaced, and Bruce could feel her discomfort. 

“Did I _overstep_?”

“No, silly. I guess, I’d just hoped we’d have more time to come to a decision.” 

“Hey,” he cupped her cheek lovingly, “you have all the time in the world. This isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon, right? Whatever you decide to do, I’m here to support it fully.”

“Really?”

“Of course. But, I’m a man who likes a plan, and I do like to be prepared. Sue me.”

Faith snickered, then yelped when Bruce pulled her underneath him and nipped down her neck playfully. 

“Fine! You win!” She screeched, her body jerking in mirth as he continued to tease her relentlessly. 

“Oh?” He lifted his head up, his hazel eyes gleaming. “So in the future, when we have disagreements? All I have to do to win the argument?”

“I’d stop right there, if I were you, Krasivyy.”

“Fine.” Bruce pouted, causing Faith to shake her head at him. 

“Too pretty to pout.”

“And you’re too gorgeous for words.” He responded back sincerely. “Why didn’t you tell me what a beautiful voice you have?”

Faith’s eyes met his, and Bruce could tell she was startled by the compliment. 

“I’ve always thought my singing voice was okay—nothing to write home about?”

Bruce sat up stunned, as he pulled her up with him. 

“Excuse me, but who in the world ever told you that your voice isn’t anything short of spectacular?”

Faith sat back and pondered that question with a frown on her face. 

“I honestly, haven’t really sang since I was young?”

“So you’re not experienced in hearing yourself when you sing?”

“Is that a thing?” Bruce nodded. “Do you sing?”

“I can, fairly well, actually. Although it’s not something that is widely known. I play piano too, took lessons for most of my young life until college.”

Faith just gaped at him in bafflement. “How did I not know this?”

Bruce shrugged. “There’s never been a reason for it to come up, honestly.”

“I suppose we’re going to keep learning new things about each other as time goes on.”

“I surely hope so.” Bruce winked. “It’s after eight, Gorgeous—and we are supposed to attend the circus today at one. I did take the liberty to invite a few people.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Natalia and Zarina, and they were thrilled. Blair, and Lari also expressed an interest in attending, as did Serena. I do believe I should extend an invite to Bart and his son, as well. Lily had other plans today, but she was going to try and change them. Her husband, William, will be attending with her if she’s successful in rearranging her schedule. I’d also invited John and Buffy, Violet, Rona and Willow too, as well as Yevgeny.”

“Wow!” She shook her head, “Are they all coming?”

He nodded. “To my knowledge.”

“What about Talia?”

“Angel has her locked down at the Wolfram and Hart offices here. Once the circus is done, John will be leaving with Angel to take Miranda to Khasmir.”

“Is Buffy going, too?”

“I honestly don’t know, Gorgeous. The political factions in Khasmir might not take too kindly to Buffy being there. They’re still fairly intolerant of westerners, and women in particular.”

“That’s just a load of crap.”

“Yes, I agree.”

Deciding to change the subject, she asked...

“How did you get so many seats last minute to the circus?” 

“I contacted the owner, and they have a special VIP section that is held for visiting dignitaries and the like. He was thrilled to accommodate us.”

“That’s cool.” 

“Hungry?”

“Yeah, can we just order room service?”

“Of course.”

“Can I take a bubble bath?”

“Of course.” Bruce smirked indulgently. “Let me order our food, and I’ll join you shortly.”

“Okay.”

A few moments later, Faith heard Bruce come in from the outer bathroom, and then she felt him slide in behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist snugly. 

“You never did tell me last night what happened with...”

“Ah, yes...” He interrupted, not wishing to speak either names at this point. “Willow bound them magically, so they’ll be keeping their mouths shut. Frankly, I’d prefer it if we never have to deal with them again.”

“Ditto, that.” She glanced up over her shoulder, at darkened hazel eyes that were watching her closely. “I don’t see the appeal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I guess they’re both considered desirable people, right? And you must’ve found her so, to have fucked her...”

“Ouch.”

“True though.”

“Perhaps.”

“Were you even tempted to pursue something with her?”

“No.”

“Because of your feelings for Rachel?”

“Partly, but I think it was due to her reputation more than anything. People who tend to gravitate to Hollywood, are narcissistic by nature. Their egos have to constantly be fed by the fame and notoriety of their lifestyles. They thrive on having their pictures in print, being worshipped and fawned over and for what, really? I’m a lover of the arts, but I’ve never considered what they do in Hollywood to be especially noteworthy. It’s just a different form of avarice and vice. Not my scene.”

Faith hummed in agreement. “It seems too superficial, thinking on it now.”

“I suppose.” Bruce grabbed a wash cloth and lathered it up, taking his time to wash his beautiful fiancée’s body, especially his favorite parts. “Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“Promise you won’t get upset?”

She turned in his arms and straddled Bruce’s waist, giving him a questioning look. 

“What is it, Krasivyy?” She cocked her head curiously and then pushed at his chest in sudden comprehension. “Really? You’re that curious to know what he offered me?”

Bruce settled back and gripped her hips tightly, his expression clearly admiring as he said, “I _really_ wish I knew how you did that?”

“I can feel you, remember?”

“Oh?” 

He blushed slightly, and Faith cupped his cheeks and brought his face up so they were at eye level. 

“Is it really that important for you to know?”

“Yes.”

She nodded and bit her lip in frustration before stating evenly, “The first time he came to see me he paid the club rate. $500 per hour. After he’d left, I’d found out he’d requested to see me again. Normally, I would’ve said no, but I needed the money, and I’d figured it would only be the one time. He offered to pay triple my rate, and I took it. When he came back the next week, I did the hour and then was told by the owner he wanted to see me again the next night. He offered five times my going rate, and I agreed. I saw him twice more after that, the last time was when he made me the offer.”

“Which was?” Bruce gritted out. 

Faith breathed in deeply and answered hesitantly, “He wanted me to be his exclusively. He told me to name my price. That I could have whatever I’d wanted, and when I said ‘no’—he offered me a cool million in cash to change my mind. I was stunned. I had been propositioned before, but never to that degree.”

Bruce’s lips thinned, his gaze narrowing before croaking out harshly, “Were you tempted?”

“The money was a temptation, Bruce...I’m not going to lie about that. All my life, from the time in the orphanage to when I met you, I’ve never had a home or security of any kind. When I came to Gotham, I had what little I’d owned that I couldn’t carry in my backpack, sent on ahead. All I had on me was my Prababushka’s necklace, photo, a change of clothes and ten thousand in cash. Once the job in Gotham was _done?_ I was in the wind.”

Paling heavily, Bruce growled out, “ _What do you mean by that?”_

“I was gone. On my motorcycle and off to parts unknown. Honestly, I think I was done.”

Bruce stared at Faith in horrified understanding.

“ _Done_?” He whispered out, pained. 

“I don’t need to draw you a diagram, Bruce, do I? **Done is done.** I think Spike summed it up once the best...you see Slayers? We are killers. Yes, we fight the darkness and evil but after a while? Every Slayer has a death wish and longs for peace. It’s why historically, Slayers don’t tend to live more than a few years if that. Buffy has died three times at last count, and the powers have allowed her to come back each time because she is the Chosen One. I’m not. So I knew, once I’d made the choice to go out in a blaze of glory? That, would be that. Selfishly, I’d hoped that when that moment came, that my good deeds would outweigh the bad ones enough that I’d be given a place in Heaven. But realistically, I knew that it was unlikely.”

“ _Faith_...”

“It’s fine. I made the choice to live the night we’d found Violet at the warehouse. Whatever my issues, she and Rona needed me more than I needed to die, and I need them too. I wasn’t lying when I told Angel in Zurich, that I didn’t want to die anymore.”

She watched stunned, as tears fell from Bruce’s eyes and down his cheeks and she just wiped them away carefully, allowing him the time to process her words. 

“Promise me,” he choked out finally, “ _promise me, that you’ll never give up again.”_

“I promise, Krasivyy.” She ran her hands through his hair and petted him soothingly. “The Powers I believe, sent me to Gotham knowing where my heart was at, and finally gave me a reason to live beyond the Slaying. I’d never in a million years had thought this would’ve ever been possible for me to have. To find someone who understands me, believes in me, doesn’t judge my past, and accepts my reality as a Slayer.”

“I do, Gorgeous,” He pleaded softly, “I love all of you, _unconditionally_.”

“As I do you, Bruce.” She replied unequivocally. “I’ve never believed in fate, or soulmates or any of that other fairytale stuff. But, that was before I met you. I love you with all that I am.”

Bruce sat up and clung to her, pulling her in more firmly against this body as he said fiercely, “And I love you just as much. You are my heart, and my soul. I live and breathe for you, Gorgeous.”

“Ditto.” 

He kissed her, and then made love to her right there in their bathtub...holding her to him as close as their bodies would allow until they came in a rush of heat together, their names hushed between kisses, whispered words of forever, promised only for each other.

As they got out and dried off, Bruce never allowed Faith to leave his side. He kept her close, interspersed gentle pecks and light touches of reaffirmation. 

It was more for him than for her...

His entire world upended at the thought that had things gone differently, Faith would’ve likely disappeared without a trace and he’d have never known what had happened to her. 

When their breakfast came, Bruce picked at his food and Faith sighed, before plopping herself down on his lap and force feeding him bite after bite—his eyes never wavering from her own. 

She could feel his emotions keenly, and it hurt her heart to think she’d shocked him this much. 

Roger had stopped by, and brought some correspondence as well as discussed how she’d wanted to handle the thank you cards and gifts that would need to be sent out after last nights shindig. 

But all that was secondary to her fiancé, who was literally sulking in silence. 

“Bruce?”

“Hmmm?” 

Going over and taking the paper out of Bruce’s hands, she stared down at him, and his hazel eyes gazed up at her warily. 

“Don’t do this, _please_.”

“Do what?”

“Worry, fret...whatever it is you’re feeling right now it’s giving me whiplash!”

He sighed and stood up, taking Faith into his arms and giving her a loving kiss. 

“Sorry, Gorgeous. I’m a bit in my own head right now.”

“I get that, and I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be? But didn’t you tell me before, what’s done is done and we can’t change it, right?”

“Yes.”

“Glass half-full, Krasivyy.” She flashed her engagement ring at him, and he smiled softly at her in response and then sighed. “What can I do to make this better?”

Bruce cocked his head and thought for a moment, before he wrapped a possessive arm around her waist and said seriously, “Set a wedding date?”

“Really?” She griped out, and if she hadn’t been able to feel Bruce’s emotions clearly, she’d have thought that she’d just been royally played. “ _Seriously?”_

“Yes.”

“You have a date in mind, don’t you?”

He chuckled and replied fondly, “I’ll never get tired of how you do that.”

“Good, now spit it out and let’s enjoy our last day in New York?”

“Fine!” He pouted slightly, before stating simply, “I want to get married before we go to Russia.”

“Shit.” Moaning in defeat, she tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling in frustration. “That’s two months away, give or take.”

“I know. September is lovely for a wedding.”

“Bruce! That’s next month! Where in the world are we going to find a place to get married...” Faith’s voice dropped off, and she poked at his chest in anger. “Did you talk to Lily about this?”

“Shit!” He nuzzled her neck, “I’m never going to be able to surprise you with anything!”

“And?” 

“Yes, I might’ve mentioned to Lily that I was hoping I’d get you to agree to a wedding sooner, rather than later.”

“I don’t believe this!” Faith snarked mockingly, “I just agreed to marry you? I take it you don’t believe in long engagements? What about a prenup?”

Bruce took a startled step back as he openly stared at her. 

“I wasn’t planning on having you sign one, but I suppose if you want me to...”

“ _Oh, shut the fuck up right now_!” She cut him off, “Of course I’m not going to have you sign a stupid prenup! I was being _sarcastic_.”

“Right.”

“I’m so getting pissed off.”

“Gorgeous...”

“I need to finish getting ready,” Faith bit out haughtily, “please, let me know when you and Lily finish planning my fucking wedding, and I’ll show up at the appointed date and time with bells on!”

Bruce groaned as he watched Faith storm out of the living area, and back into their bedroom, the force of the door closing had him wincing in contrition. 

_Shit!_

That hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. 

About thirty minutes later, Faith came out of their room, dressed in a pair of black leather pants, boots and an off-the-shoulder black and white geometric slightly see through blouse with a singlet underneath. Her hair was pulled up in a long pony-tail, and she had on the same silver hoops she’d worn the other day. Her face was mostly make-up free, which he preferred in all honesty. 

But she looked perfect, no matter what she chose to wear.

He watched her put her phone in her jacket pocket, along with a small wallet for her ID, credit card and cash that she normally carried. She slipped her knife into her right boot, that went to just above her knees. 

He was dressed in dark washed designer jeans, a white dress shirt and a navy sports jacket. Sunglasses in his pocket as well as his wallet. Shoes were brown leather Salvatore Ferragamo buckled loafers, and his watch was his favored Jaeger LeCoultre Reverso XGT Grande Date 8 Day.

“Hey,” He said softly, and offered Faith a tentative half-smile, “you look beautiful.”

He could see her body deflate as she took in his appearance, her lips lifting in spite of her ire.

“You look very handsome.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” She glided over and stood in front of him, her eyes assessing him—and he knew she was trying to get a read on his emotions. “Bruce, can I be honest with you about something?”

He nodded. 

“I think, you forget sometimes outside of our bedroom, that I need control too. I’ve moved out of my comfort zone with you. I don’t regret it at all. But the part of me that craves control, isn’t just confined to our sex life. Taking these steps with you, it leaves me feeling unlike myself sometimes, and it’s difficult to downshift as quickly as I think you expect me to.”

“Faith...”

“No, Krasivyy—let me get this out, _okay_?”

“Okay.”

She smoothed her hands down Bruce’s chest and lifted her head up to his with a sigh. 

“Sometimes, it’s hard for me to remember how not to crave that control. It’s like Slaying. The instinct will always be there and I’ve never allowed anyone to have any kind of say in how I do things, especially in the bedroom. But now? There’s you, and _us_...and the one thing that I’ve held onto like a lifeline since I was nine, is the one thing that I have to try and not exactly put away...but maybe find a different way to do things. Sometimes, it takes me a while to process stuff? All I _do_ know, is for the first time in my life, I’m desperately trying to find that balance between control and compromise.” 

“I’m sorry, Gorgeous. I didn’t even think. You’ve moved from one thing to the next so effortlessly these past few months, that...” his voice fell away awkwardly. 

“I’m always going to be your Domina, Krasivyy. _I crave that with you._ It’s the reason I suggested having a dungeon at the Manor because I want to explore all that we can be together sexually. I want it to be our safe haven to push each other’s boundaries and give into what we need and desire without judgement. Outside of our sex life, I will try and remember that it might not be as instinctive for you to separate the two dualities. Bruce Wayne _isn’t_ a submissive by nature. He is with me, but only in the bedroom, correct?”

Bruce shook his head, and swallowed reflexively, feeling his chest clogging with adoration and emotion. 

“ _Fuck, I wish I knew how you did that._ ” 

Hazel eyes lifted, and Faith could see so many feelings raging there, it was hard to pick one. 

“It’s because I _see_ you. I saw you, the real you, that night we saved Violet together. Your duality, light and dark, controlling and submissive. I don’t think I’ve ever told you or said how honored I feel that you chose me to share that side of yourself with. To trust me to take care of your mind, body and heart. And I guess it really doesn’t matter when we get married, because it’s gonna happen anyways, right?”

“Definitely.”

“I’ll be eight weeks pregnant this week. I have an appointment Wednesday with my OB for the sonogram to hear the baby’s heartbeat. She’s settled in Gotham, thank you for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, and I’m coming with you.”

“I’d figured you might want to.”

“Just for the record? I will be at every appointment.”

“I would love that.” Faith kissed his lips with the briefest of pressure before she finished with, “Today is August 26th, so how about September 29th? That’s five weeks from now? I won’t be showing, so there’s that. And it’ll give us a chance to take a honeymoon, before we go to Russia.”

Bruce cupped her face and kissed her deeply, his left hand wrapping around her waist while he directed the kiss with his right.

When he pulled back reluctantly, he smiled. 

“I think we can make that work.”

“Yeah?”

“If I have to bring the mountain to us, it’s going to happen, Gorgeous.”

Giggling at Bruce’s impudence, Faith simply nodded in agreement. 

“Can I make a request?”

“Anything.”

“Something small and intimate. Giles, Willow, Buffy, Dawnie, Angel—heck, maybe even Spike. And of course the junior brigade. Alfred, Lucius, Blair, Lari, and John. Natalia and Zarina. Yevgeny too. Lily and her husband, and I’ll even concede on Bart Bass and his son, too. I know Douglas Fredericks is a close associate of yours, and I’d imagine there might be a few more I don’t know about.”

“A few.”

“But I don’t want this to be some big society thing, Bruce. I just want...”

“Done.” He interrupted with a swift kiss. 

“Do we do it here, or in Gotham?”

“In Gotham. I own a restaurant called the Ocelot, so we could do the reception there. Do you want to be married in a church?”

“My mom and babushka were Russian orthodox, and we did attend church when I was a young girl. I was baptized and anointed, called chrismation, after my baptism. I haven’t attended a service in years, so selfishly? I would like to honor my family and be married in the church but I don’t want to place that on you, if that’s not something you’d want.”

“I’d thought you might feel that way, and I’m not against it...I just don’t know how that would work.” 

“I suppose we need to figure it out then, right?”

“Yes. I do understand that for those in Russia, it will likely mean more if you’re married in the church but I want to make sure we do this for us, and not for any other reason.”

“I agree.”

“Honeymoon?”

“I’m open to suggestions. I’ve never been anywhere outside the country except Zurich.”

“Paris?” 

“Seems cliche.”

“It’s actually a beautiful city.”

“I don’t know, I think I’d actually prefer something with a bit more flair.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want something _sultry_ , sexy—where I can dance for you and let go.”

Bruce’s gaze darkened, as his lips quirked up devilishly at that tantalizing thought. 

“I think I know just the place.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Bruce cocked his head and asked seriously, “Have you been vaccinated for traveling overseas?”

“Yes. Giles actually made it mandatory for all Slayers and Watchers in 2005.”

“Really?”

“Yep. He wanted to make sure we could safely travel anywhere in the world at a moments notice. Even though flying has never been my thing, I still had to do it.”

“Perfect.” 

“And I want to be able to wear a skimpy bikini too.”

Bruce growled out lowly. “How skimpy are we talking?”

“Skimpy...” Faith drawled our the word seductively. “Scraps... _barely covering anything...”_

“Shit!” 

“You asked.”

“I did, and would you possibly agree to elope now, and go on our honeymoon tomorrow?”

Faith’s body rumbled in laughter, but she shook her head and coughed out, “You want to tell Alfred, or Lily, or Blair...why we didn’t include them? Violet and Rona will never speak to me again, and I’m certain that Angel will be butt hurt if he can’t...”

Faith’s face paled. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Angel might have an aversion to the idea.”

“Can vampires enter churches?”

“Yes, they just can’t enter a person’s home without an invitation. Hotels, churches, are grey areas but I did fight vampires in a church once.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, during the Buffy-Faith body swap of 2000.”

“Nice.”

“Not really. Not one of my better moments.”

“Well, I think we can figure something out that will make everyone happy.” Bruce stated emphatically. “And if we can’t, we just elope, deal?”

“Deal.”

“Now let’s get going. We have a circus to get to, and then one last night here to enjoy before we return back to Gotham.”

“What’s on the agenda for tonight?”

Bruce shrugged noncommittally. “I didn’t plan anything per say, why? Was there something you had in mind?”

“I don’t think so. The circus is only a couple hours, right?”

“Yes. Would you like to eat out tonight?”

“Where?”

“I think I could find a place you’d like. Just us?”

“I don’t know. I’d prefer it, but Natalia and Zarina are leaving tomorrow, and I feel if nothing else...”

“No, I get it. How about you see if they’re up for that. I could make reservations around seven thirty. It would give Zarina a chance to rest a bit before dinner?”

“Okay. Let me call down to their room and ask?”

Bruce nodded and watched as Faith made the call, the words in Russian coming easier and more fluid the longer she had the opportunity to speak. She nodded at him, so he waited until she was done before he made the call. 

“Anyone else?”

“Are we obligated to invite everyone from today?”

“No, but it might be a good idea to invite Lily and William. I’m fairly certain the younger generation would rather skip hanging with the older crowd.”

“I’m part of the older crowd?” Faith shivered in abject disgust, causing Bruce to chuckle at her ridiculousness.

“You’re too cute, but for the sake of Zarina, I would think it might be a good idea to keep the excitement at a minimum.”

“Fair enough. John will be gone, and I’m certain Buffy will pass as will the kiddos. So that leaves Yevgeny, Bart and Lari.”

“Let me make the call and see if I can reserve the place I’d like to take you to. It may be dependent on if and how many they can seat us for.”

“Fine.”

Bruce made the phone call, and was talking with someone for a several minutes, before he smiled and nodded. 

“They’re happy to accommodate us, we just need to let them know how many.”

“Okay.”

It only took a sum total of fifteen minutes and a handful of phone calls, but the final count of guests were Lily and William van der Woodsen, Bart Bass, Yevgeny Grimov, Natalia, Zarina and Lari.

They left their room and made their way downstairs about forty minutes later, where the limousine was waiting for them, along with Blair, Serena, Lari, Natalia and Zarina. 

Roger hadn’t managed to discover if Katia was currently working at the circus, but Faith was hopeful if Katia was there, her old orphanage comrade might seek her out.

When they arrived at the Big Apple Circus at the Lincoln Center, their group was escorted right into the seating area. 

The two hour show was filled with all kinds of acts, and everyone seemed to enjoy the festivities, although Faith was a bit creeped out by the clown motif of the show, but Bruce just laughed when one of the clowns came over and brought her a large bouquet of silk flowers. 

After the show, the director came over and Faith asked the woman if she was familiar with an Ekaterina Zuykova, but the woman didn’t know of her and had never heard of her. It had made Faith wonder what had happened to her comrade, and where she’d ended up.

Later that evening, as she and Bruce got ready to leave for dinner, Faith got a text from John. 

**On our way, will update when we land...**

Glancing at the time, she figured John would be there by morning. 

_Sounds good. Be careful..._

**We will. Angel told me to tell you to not get married, until he gets back...**

Shit!

_As if I would do such a thing!_

Faith grinned as she sent a quick text to Angel and then placed her phone in her bag, not realizing that Bruce was watching her closely. 

“Who was that?”

“John, he just wanted to let us know he’s on route.”

“Hmm, and what had you smiling?”

“Angel. Apparently, we aren’t allowed to get married until he gets back.” Faith cocked her head in challenge and then asked waspishly, “Now, why would Angel make that comment, Krasivyy?”

Bruce actually had the decency to look a bit sheepish and blush slightly, causing Faith to smirk at him knowingly. 

“I might’ve mentioned to him last night, before he left? That I was hoping to marry you sooner rather than later, and I wanted to know what he’d thought your reaction might be.”

“Oh? And what did he say?”

“That I had my work cut out for me.”

Faith huffed out a husky laugh, and Bruce smiled adoringly at her. 

“Well, seems as if I should’ve made you work a bit harder for it, huh?”

He grabbed her into his embrace, and kissed her with purpose, smirking himself when she sighed happily into his onslaught. When he ended the kiss, he cupped her face reverently, and said...

“You agreed, Gorgeous. No take backs.”

“Fine.”

“You look good enough to eat, by the way.”

“What?” Faith glanced down and smoothed her dress down carefully. “This old thing?”

“Hmmm, is this one of the outfits you picked out originally with Annette?”

“Yes.”

“Leather, very soft too.” Bruce traced the haltered-neckline enticingly, even as his eyes traveled down the form-fitted bodice that stopped mid-thigh. “Are you wearing any...”

“No.”

“ _Fuck_ , Gorgeous!” He growled deeply, cupping her backside eagerly, “How am I supposed to get through an entire evening knowing that?”

“Sucks to be you.” 

She winked wickedly, before lifting herself up slightly on the balls of her feet and whispering seductively into his ear, “Do you think it would be considered bad etiquette to straddle you in the restaurant and sink down on your more than impressive dick in front of everyone?”

Bruce whipped his head back, his hazel eyes nearly black with desire, but they also promised swift retribution for later. He was just about to say fuck it, and fuck her right there, when a knock sounded at their door. 

“Awww, cock-blocked by Roger, most likely.” 

Faith grinned, turned and then sashayed towards the door, grabbing her wrap from where she’d set it at the edge of the couch. Bruce followed her and managed to wrap his arm around her waist as she answered their door. 

“Good evening, Miss Lehane, Mr. Wayne. The car is waiting downstairs.”

“Thanks, Roger.”

The older man nodded, as he noticed immediately the charged atmosphere within the room. He shook his head, following his employer towards the elevator, her fiancé seemingly holding himself with quite a bit of restrained emotion. 

Once in the lobby, their small group was met by Natalia and Zarina. 

In the limo, they discussed the wedding plans, and both Zarina and Natalia were eager to help in any way they could. 

When they entered at the restaurant, they were the last to arrive and the place was packed. Everyone turned to watch both she and Bruce, as he led her towards their group at the bar. Greetings were shared, and then the Maitre D, led them downstairs to the private dining room. 

“ _Italian_?” Faith asked silently, and Bruce nodded before kissing her shoulder lovingly, as he situated her into her seat. 

There was another group in the dining room, who seemed to be watching them with interest. 

“Do you know them?” Faith whispered to Bruce, his eyes glancing over at the group of ten young men. 

“No.”

“This is a nice surprise,” Lily offered sweetly, “I haven’t eaten here in a few years.”

“I’m rather fond of their Petto D’Anatra.” Bart hummed thoughtfully, before he gazed over at Faith and asked, “Do you have a favorite Italian dish, Faith?”

“No. I’m pretty much an equal opportunity eater when it comes to Italian food. When I lived in Cleveland, there was a great Italian Bakery in Little Italy, called Presti’s. And Valentino’s made the best pizza I’ve ever had, anywhere.”

“I’ve never been to Little Italy in Cleveland.” Bruce hummed thoughtfully, “But in Gotham, Stella Bakery makes the best Sfogliatella’s.”

“What are those?” Faith’s eye brightened with interest. 

“Ahh, I think I’d have to show you.” Bruce winked. “Describing them doesn’t do them justice in the least.”

“Tease.”

Bruce chuckled deeply, but his eyes roamed down her form unabashedly, lingering on the apex of her thighs. 

“ _Down, boy_.” She chastised silently, earning another devilish look of intent. 

“You two, are too much.” William winked playfully, which earned him a subtle chastisement from his wife in the form of her clearing her throat. 

“Stop it, darling. Young love, you do remember that, yes?”

William smiled adoringly at his bride and said sincerely, “If they are even a quarter as happy as I’ve been these past thirty-two years with you, Princess, then I’m sure they’ll do just fine.”

“Flatterer.” Lily smirked, and Bart rolled his eyes. 

“Speaking of the _worst_...”

“Hush, Bart...just because your idea of romance is somewhere between Wall Street and Fifth Avenue, doesn’t mean the rest of us subscribe to love of money above all else.”

“Touché, Lily. However, don’t you think that’s a bit proletariat, considering your pedigree?”

Lily placed a hand on her chest in mock affront, but the quirk of her lips belied her demeanor.

“My Father was a businessman first and foremost. You know this, Bart. My Mother, however—was a romantic at heart. She didn’t wish for me to be married out of obligation. If Evelyn were still alive, she would chastise you as well.”

Bart bowed his head in agreement. “She would, despite the parameters of our marriage. She loved Chuck with a singular devotion and it was a travesty she never got to watch him grow up.”

“As he loves, Blair.”

Bart groaned as he sat back and stared Lily down. 

“Why must you bring that up?”

“Did he not tell you that Blair kicked him to the curb?”

Bart blanched. “Excuse me?” Grey eyes narrowed. “She _did_?”

“Oh, yes!” Lily took a sip of her wine, that the server had just poured and nodded accordingly. “That is an excellent vintage, Andre.”

“Very good, Mrs. van der Woodsen.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Bart mused thoughtfully. “I didn’t think the girl had it in her.”

“Why?” Faith inquired evenly. “I get the sense from Blair, that she’s nobody’s fool.”

“She’s actually, rather intelligent and stubborn.” Bart admitted, with reluctant admiration. “And despite my outward hesitation, I do believe she’d be a perfect match for my son.”

“Then why does he seem to treat her like she’s not his equal?” Faith demanded softly. “No offense, but Blair did share with me why she’d ended it. I get the impression she’s kinda done with the way Chuck tries to play games.”

“That’s my son.” Bart lifted his wine glass for the server to pour him his portion. “He’s far too observant, and used to getting his own way. Perhaps that is my fault, in that I’ve indulged his penchant for manipulation.”

“Like Father, like Son.” William deadpanned, earning a round of amused chuckles from the group. 

“If Evelyn were still alive, I’m certain Chuck would’ve leaned a bit more compromise and compassion.” Bart bit back. “But that has never been my forte. Hence, why I do so well in business.”

“Why do I get the feeling, Krasivyy? That Bart here, is the King of Corporate Raiders?”

“Because he is.” Bruce replied easily. “By the way, we’ve set a wedding date.”

Bruce grinned at the shocked stares from their group—except from Zarina and Natalia, who were beaming brightly. 

“When?” Lily asked eagerly. 

“September 29th in Gotham. You’re all invited, of course.” Bruce responded warmly. “Formal invitations will be sent out in a couple of weeks. It’s going to be a small, intimate affair.”

“Is there anything you need?” Lily asked. “I’m sure I could find a planner that would be willing to help on such short notice.”

“Actually,” Faith piped in, “I was kinda hoping Blair might be willing...”

“Say no more!” Lily nodded in agreement. “I know she’ll be busy with her classes, but that girl is a tour de force, as is her Mother. Cyrus and Eleanor will be returning home later this evening from Paris. Perhaps we could have brunch tomorrow and introduce you, my dear? Were you planning on leaving tomorrow?”

“At some point,” Bruce admitted, “but I’d like to see Eleanor. It’s been far too long.”

“She called me this morning,” Lari admitted, “as Cyrus has the Times delivered to him each morning like clockwork. Apparently, the event last night at the Samovar was splashed all over Page Six.”

“Oh?” Faith turned to Yevgeny, and he nodded. 

“Indeed it was. Quite a complimentary piece too.”

“Did you know?” Faith asked Bruce and he nodded. 

“I did. I seem to recall however, that I had more important things on my mind this morning, yes?”

Faith bit her lip and bowed her head in shame, not making eye contact and ignoring the concerned looks being sent her way. 

“I think I’m going to freshen up?” She replied hesitantly.

Bruce stood up and pulled out her chair and watched with a heavy heart as his fiancée made a beeline for the powder room. 

“ _Bruce_?” Lily’s voice held a warning edge to it. “What was that all about?”

“I’m sorry, Lily—but I’d rather not get into specifics, if that’s alright.”

“Is she going to be alright?”

“Yes.” Bruce smiled reassuringly. “It’s been a lot of changes in a short amount of time and despite outward appearances, Faith is adjusting as best as she can.”

“She seems to be doing a remarkable job.” Yevgeny admitted. 

“She really is.” Bruce concurred, and felt Zarina pat his hand in commiseration.

“Nickolayevna is a _remarkable_ young woman.” The Russian woman spoke up in broken English, and the entire table nodded in agreement. “Change is difficult, and for Nickolayevna she will have to deal with that under scrutiny. We must all offer our support.”

“Well said.” Yevgeny lifted and glass in salute. 

A few moments later, Faith returned to the room and as she moved towards their table, one of the men from the other group came over and waylaid her as he introduced himself. 

“Seems like she has a fan.” Bart mused, and Bruce felt his hackles go up. 

Doe brown eyes flickered to his, and Bruce could see the amused irritation there. 

When the man tried to hand Faith something, she glanced down at it incredulously and said in a cutting voice, “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”

“Jeremy.”

“Ah, Jeremy.” Faith glanced over at the table, and could see the group of young people smirking at them—“Tell me, Jeremy, were you _dropped_ on your head as a child?”

“Excuse me?” 

The young man’s voice was clearly confused and a bit angry. 

“Well, Jeremy, as you can see—I’m engaged.” Faith held up her left hand and then lifted an eyebrow mockingly. “So the only thing I can think of, is either this is some kind of immature bet that you’ve made with your friends, or you were dropped on your head as a child. Which one is it?”

The room went deathly silent, as everyone at Bruce’s table was watching the scene clearly intrigued and beyond amused—and the other table looked complete flummoxed, except for Jeremy—who’s face was reddening in embarrassed fury. 

“Why you little _bitch_...”

Bruce stood up immediately, just as the young man went to grab at his fiancée, but he wasn’t as quick as Faith, who grabbed the offender’s hand and had him in a flash, down on the ground with his hand twisted up behind his back. 

His startled yelp of pain, put an evil grin on her face. 

“What kind of friends encourage another friend to act like an idiot?” Faith snarked out angrily. 

Bruce came over and released Faith’s grip, pulling the kid up by the collar, his hazel eyes blazing. 

“What’s your full name, _friend_?”

The young man swallowed and didn’t reply, but one of his friend’s at the table spoke up and said apologetically, “It was just a joke, man.”

“ _A joke?_ ” Bruce growled. 

“Yeah, a prank.” Another guy spoke up. “We’re here for a bachelor party, and Jeremy...”

“Thought he’d approach my fiancée and what?” Bruce bit out. “Proposition her and then when she turned him down, assault her?”

“Hey, no harm, no foul!” 

Another guy chimed up, and Bruce lifted an incredulous eyebrow as he stared the group down. 

“ _Krasivyy, I don’t think they have any idea who we are.”_ Faith said silently into his mind, and Bruce had to wonder if she was right. 

A moment later, the manager came down, his face completely ashen as Bruce dropped the kid on the floor. 

“I’m so sorry, Sir.”

The kid, Jeremy...stood up and wiped himself off. 

“You should be!” He said haughtily. “I want these people removed, _right now!”_

Bruce glanced over at Faith, and she was smiling widely, but the manager was absolutely horrified. 

“Pierre?” Lily’s voice was like ice, “Do you know who this young man is?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Jeremy Getty.”

Bruce’s eyes widened, and then his face broke out into a feral grin. 

“Balthazar’s grandson?”

Jeremy nodded. “That’s right, old man.”

Bruce instantly whipped out his phone and dialed the number saved in his contacts and put it on speaker. The man himself picked up on the second ring. 

“Bruce Wayne! It’s been _ages_!”

“Hello, Balthazar! It has been. As luck would have it, I’m here with your grandson.”

Jeremy paled, and everyone was now watching the scene unfolding avidly. 

“I hear congratulations are in order? Is it true, you’re engaged to the Romanov Grand Duchess?”

“ _I am_.” 

Bruce replied, his teeth gnashing as Jeremy glanced over at the beautiful brunette, who was now eyeing him like prey. 

Shit! He knew he’d recognized the smoking hot babe!

“It would seem, we’ve had a bit of a miscommunication with your grandson. He’s here at the same restaurant as my fiancée, myself and our guests, and he took it upon himself not only to proposition Faith, but tried to assault her when she refused his advances.”

There were crickets on the other end of the line before Balthazar’s steely voice came back on. 

“Who else witnessed this travesty?”

“Hello, _darling_!” 

Lily’s voice fell over the room, and the sound on the other end of the phone rumbled deeply. 

“Lily, flower! It’s good to hear from you.”

“And you, darling. I must ask? Was Jeremy here dropped on his head as a child?”

The Getty Patriarch boomed out a husky laugh, and then replied in amusement, “Not that I’m aware of. His sister might’ve knocked him around though. You remember what a spitfire she was, Bruce?”

“Yes. How is Zephyr?”

“Running the business and taking names, unlike her younger brother, apparently. Who else is there with you?”

“How’s it going, you old fossil.” Bart snarked out, half jokingly. 

“Who let _you_ dine with the adults?” Balthazar bit back cattily. 

“Oh, I _like_ him.” Faith purred throatily. 

“And who does that sexy voice belong to?”

“That would be my lovely bride to be.” 

Bruce replied proudly, ignoring Bart’s pleased grin at his fiancée. 

“Hello, Your Grace.”

“Mr. Getty.” Faith replied back politely. 

“I do apologize for my grandson. He was raised better than this. _Weren’t you, boy?”_

“Yes, Sir.”

“Jeremy, you will apologize, and I will expect you home on the family jet first thing in the morning. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Very good. I’ll let your sister deal with you when you return home.”

“Grandfather!”

“What?” The older man replied innocently, and Faith watched as all of Jeremy’s friends paled in shock. “Your sister won’t be amused when I tell her, and you know this.”

“But she’s a _tyrant_!”

“Yes, hence why she runs the business and you have an allowance.”

Jeremy blushed, while his friends snickered at that juicy piece of gossip. 

“Bruce, next time you’re in town please make it a point to stop by and introduce me formally to your lovely bride to be. I’ll even throw in a baseball game, in the family box of course, and dinner at Tadich Grill. I seem to remember you had a fondness for their house Cioppino.”

“Yes I did, and that sounds like a deal, Sir,” Bruce chuckled, “And please say hello to Zephyr for me.”

“I will. She and her wife are expecting their first child next month. I’m going to be a great-grandfather!”

“Congratulations, Balthazar.”

“Yes, darling!” Lily cooed out happily. “I’ll make sure to send her something lovely. Is Arabella carrying or Zephyr?”

“Ari is. Zephyr is too focused on business...”

“Too selfish, you mean.” Jeremy muttered bitterly. 

“That’s _enough_ , young man.” Balthazar warned. “I won’t take up anymore of your evening, Bruce.”

“It was good to talk to you, Sir. We are getting married next month in Gotham. So if you can manage to pull yourself away from the West Coast long enough, perhaps you might join us?”

“I would be honored. Let me know the particulars, and I’ll be there with bells on. Lily, flower! You’ll owe me a dance.”

“Of course, you _incorrigible_ flirt.”

Balthazar’s booming laugh echoed again, before Bruce signed off. When he placed his phone in his pocket, he eyed the young man—who now appeared somewhat contrite. 

“I apologize, Mr. Wayne.”

“ _Not to me.”_ Bruce growled deeply, watching the kid swallow heavily, before he glanced Faith’s way. 

“I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

“I’ll accept your apology on _one_ condition?”

“And that is?”

“Try and remember that just because you were lucky enough to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth, doesn’t give you the right to act like a privileged tool. Try and do something good with what you’ve been given.”

Jeremy nodded, but didn’t reply as he waved to his friends and they all stood up and made to leave. The manager eventually escorted them out, leaving Bruce and Faith alone with their group. 

“Well, that was interesting.” Bart deadpanned, before his eyes gleamed mischievously. “Didn’t you _date_ Zephyr at Princeton, Bruce?”

Bruce took a sip of his wine and felt Faith’s hand on his leg, clenching down on it in sudden understanding. 

“Yes.”

“Did you _know_?”

“Bart?”

“Yes?”

“Put a sock in it.”

“Here, _here_.” Lily sniffed in disdain. “I would like to order now.”

Their waiter came down soon afterwards and took their orders, leaving them to enjoy the rest of their meal as they engaged in idle chit chat, but Bruce could _feel_ Faith’s irritation. He rubbed his hand on her leg, and her mind opened to him as she queried, “ _I’m assuming she was the one at school?”_

Bruce nodded once. 

“ _So, she preferred women?”_

Bruce shrugged, as he really didn’t know the answer to that. 

“ _Between Angelina, Eden and now Zephyr, I think I’ve had enough of having your past exploits thrown into my face for one weekend.”_

Quirking his lips, he could hear the lilt of calm amusement in Faith’s voice within his mind. He leant over and whispered so only she could hear him, “I can’t wait to get you back to the hotel.”

“Ditto.” 

She purred out and felt his lips touch her cheek with the softest of touches. 

“Love you.”

Her brown eyes turned and considered him before she said sweetly, “I love you, too.”


	58. A Return to the Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and John take Miranda back to the place of her birth and reach an understanding.

The flight from New York to Marrakesh took about thirteen hours, give or take and another six hours to get to the small village of Khasmir, near the southeastern border of Morocco. John and Angel, had given Miranda a sedative that would hopefully wear off within the hour, as they stood in front of the local clan leader—a man named Salamin.

When Ra’s had rescued Bane from the pit nearly twenty years prior, he’d killed the warlord, who’s daughter he’d married. When he’d left the region, Salamin had risen to power in the vacuum left by the wake of Ra’s destruction, but the damage had been done. Many men whom supported the Warlord, had died—leaving their families broken and children, fatherless. 

Needless to say, there was no love lost for the man once known as Ra’s al Ghul, nor his daughter. 

“You have brought her?” Salamin spoke, in heavily accented English. 

“We have,” Angel replied evenly, “and I have brought payment for your concession.”

Handing over a small satchel to one of Salamin’s guards, the man took the bag and opened it, perusing through the items carefully. With a final nod of his head, he set the offering down at his Master’s feet. 

“You do know, once in the pit, she will never be free.”

“We understand.” Angel nodded, while John just stood back and let the vampire take the lead. “We only ask that she understand who has sent her back to the place of her birth.”

“And the creature who attends her?”

“ _Dead_.”

Salamin’s eyebrows lifted, while those in his entourage started to whisper amongst themselves. 

“And who do I have to thank for such a boon?”

“Alqatil.”

The Warlord stood there stunned, as he glanced over to his brethren, who were now completely quiet as well. 

“The Shadow Warrior?”

“Yes.” Angel replied. “She respects your customs, and asked me to convey her appreciation for your willingness to do what’s necessary.”

Salamin chuckled deeply. “Please pass on my sentiments.”

Angel bowed his head in understanding and then watched as four men came over to their car and took Miranda out, carrying her down an embankment about 200 yards to the south. Angel followed, as did John and once they got to an outcropping along a circular rock formation that was about six feet high, Miranda was tied onto a kind of basket and lowered into the pit, with two of the warlord’s men, flanking her down. 

Once they were inside, Angel and John followed down. 

At the base of the pit, John stared up at the rock facing that was about twenty stories high. From what Angel had shared, Miranda had made the climb as a child to her freedom. The only one to ever escape from the pit. He turned and watched as Salamin’s men, carried Miranda to a cell and shackled her to the wall inside, before they left the small space. 

John cocked his head as another man slithered down the rope, and he too, moved into the ten by ten cell. He had an urn of some kind that was wafting incense into the air, as he chanted out words that were unrecognizable. Blue eyes turned to Angel, who was standing there with his arms folded watching the scene with interest. 

Once completed, the native clansman, moved out of the cell and closed the door, locking it and handing another man the key. As he walked past, John nodded to him—but the other man didn’t acknowledge him in any way and when he glanced over his shoulder to see if he was heading back up the climbing rope, John gasped. 

The man had vanished...

“Let’s get this over with.” Angel whispered lowly, and John eagerly followed, as this was the moment he’d been waiting for. He hadn’t wanted to believe that his Miranda could’ve done something so vile and cruel, and a part of him had held out hope that it was all a big misunderstanding—until the confession had fallen from her lips. The rage he’d felt in that moment was only tempered by the fact that he’d get his revenge for what had happened to Zac. Whatever horrors Miranda ultimately suffered in this hell-hole were more than deserved, in his not so humble opinion. 

Crouching down on his haunches, John waited.

As he considered Miranda, John felt a sense of vindication knowing that as he was sitting there waiting to exact his own plan, Wayne and Bass were taking down Miranda’s entire financial base. By the time he returned to Gotham, he would be the owner of thirty percent of Tate Conglomerate’s assets. It was a hollow victory, in many ways. Ruining Miranda wouldn’t give Zac back his innocence, nor his ability to trust. It would however, give John enough money and power to make sure that no one ever used Zac again. 

And if he was right, Buffy was probably on her way to California to make sure that Zac was settled in his new beach house in Malibu. 

He smiled softly at that thought. Buffy had found the place, small by Malibu’s standards, but less than a mile from school. Zac could finish out his last year of school in style and have a place of his own if he needed it, too.

A soft moan broke him from his thoughts as Miranda started to stir. 

John smirked in smug satisfaction as soon as recognition flittered over Miranda’s countenance.

“ _Hello_ , Randi.”

Dark eyes turned to him, and John almost laughed at the shock on Miranda’s face. 

“Johnathan?”

“Yes. It’s me.”

“Where am I?”

“You mean you don’t recognize this place, Talia?”

What little color that Miranda had, was now gone as her eyes widened in horror. 

“What are you talking about, Johnathan. Who is Talia?”

“ _You_.” He mocked. “Talia al Ghul. Daughter of Ra’s al Ghul. The former leader of the League of Shadows. Dead. You will be too, soon enough.”

John took perverse pleasure at watching Miranda try and figure out a way to maneuver herself out of this new reality she found herself in. 

“Johnathan...”

“Save it, Talia. I know it was you behind Zac’s rape. Did you honestly think that I’d never figure it out?”

The panic was just starting to settle in, and John figured it was only a matter of time before the bargaining began...

Then the _begging_...

He was rather looking forward to that part...

“Look, Johnathan? I’m sure this is just a huge misunderstanding?”

He chuckled and shook his head in the negative.

“Nah, it’s not. Bane is dead. Just thought you should know. There’s no cavalry, Talia. No one to save you this time. You’re magically bound to this pit, the place of your birth. There’s no escaping this time, no reprieve. You were born here and you will die here. It has a kind of poetic symmetry to it, don’t you think?”

John watched Miranda’s eyes narrow. “What do you want?” Her voice was hard and brittle. “Money? Power?”

John smirked. The bargaining had started a bit sooner than he’d anticipated. 

So much the better. 

“You have neither, Randi.”

“What are you talking about?”

“No money, no power. You see? I used a much stronger version of Crane’s drug on you, and you sang like a canary. Gave me your access codes, and along with your fingerprints—well. Tate Conglomerate is no more as of,” checking his watch, John hummed, “six hours ago?”

“You don’t have those kind of resources!” Talia hissed and John’s smirk bloomed in glee. 

“No, but Bruce Wayne and Bart Bass, do.”

“What?” 

“You heard me, Randi? Between the three of us? We’ve absorbed all your assets. I even have possession of your blackmail files. You have _nothing_ left.”

John watched as Miranda licked her dry lips, her eyes now darting around the confines of her new home, as reality finally started to kick in. 

“Johnathan? There must be something you want?” She pleaded desperately.

“Oh, there is, Randi.”

“And what is it?”

John leant forward and gripped the bars of the cell tightly, as he sneered venomously. “I want Zac’s innocence _returned_. Nothing short of that, would ever tempt me to let you out of here.”

“And I’m supposed to apologize to you, because your pseudo-nephew was weak and easy prey?”

John’s expression darkened and his nostrils flared in hate. “Kinda like you, Talia. _Easy prey._ Enjoy your final days here. I’m sure you’ll provide some amusement to the prisoners here.”

“You can’t leave me here, Johnathan! You’re not that cruel!”

“You’re right, Talia. I wasn’t that cruel, but sometimes exceptions have to be made. This is one of those times and trust me, I won’t lose a wink of sleep over it.”

Standing up, John smoothed his hands down his pants and grinned. As he turned to walk away, Miranda’s voice called after him. 

“When I get out of here, I’m coming for you, Johnathan!”

Glancing over his shoulder, John winked—and then walked towards the climbing ropes. When he turned to see if Angel was following him, the vampire was standing where he’d been a minute ago, and all John could see was Miranda’s ashen expression. John had no doubt Angel had shown Randi his true face. 

When the vampire found his way over a moment later, John asked lowly, “Do you think it’ll sink in?”

“It will fairly soon.” Angel replied, as he glanced up and then launched himself out of the pit. John glared upwards at the smirking face of Buffy’s former lover gazing down at him, and shook his head ruefully. 

_What a show off!_

Climbing back up the rock wall, and once he was topside, John bowed to Salamin politely.

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It was my pleasure. I will let you know when the woman is no more.”

“Make sure she suffers for a while,” John replied blithely, “She has _much_ to atone for.”

Angel glanced warily at John Daggett, but didn’t comment. He knew enough to know if left unchecked, Talia al Ghul had the mindset to let the world burn. No one would miss her.

Salamin gestured for them both to precede him back to where their car was at. Once there, the warlord said his goodbyes and both Angel and John were eager to get out of this place as fast as possible. 

Once they were back on the Wolfram and Hart jet, Angel spoke up. 

“I have to admit, Daggett—I wasn’t sure you had the guts to go through with it.”

John sighed, as he leant his head back on his seat and closed his eyes in consternation. 

“Well, now you do.”

“And you don’t feel the least bit...”

“No.” John interrupted harshly. “What Miranda allowed to happen to Zac?” He shook his head angrily. “I’m not a person who makes decisions lightly. I spent four years In Afghanistan and saw many of my fellow soldiers die in front of me. I saw my best friend die in the same way. I made a promise to myself and to George that if I lived, I would take care of his son as if he were my own. Miranda made me break that promise, so _no_. I’m not especially remorseful nor feel any guilt for the horrors that await her. You reap what you sow.”

“Zac seems like a good kid.”

John smirked and nodded. “He really is. Smart, kind and aware. Even with everything he’s been through, he still wants to make a difference in the world.”

“You’ve done a good job raising him.”

“His grandmother was there until he was sixteen. She was a force of nature. Julia, Zac’s mom was a good woman too. He’s lost almost everyone he’s ever loved, and yet he’s still an optimist at heart. He definitely didn’t get that from me.”

Angel chuckled deeply as he laid back on the couch in the back of the jet, the shades were closed and John peered through the window as the sun was dipping in and out on the horizon as they headed west, where it was still nighttime. 

“Buffy left to go to California?”

“Yep, she’s helping Zac move into his new place in Malibu. School starts for him next week, and it’s his last year. Buffy thought it might be good for him to have his own bachelor pad at school. He’s been living in the dorms, was an RA...”

“What’s an RA?”

“Resident Advisor.” John replied. “They’re kinda like the kids who oversee the other younger students. Help with problems, that kind of thing. I was an RA at Harvard for three years of my undergrad. It paid for my housing.”

“So he chose to follow in your footsteps?”

John shrugged. “Maybe? Zac wanted to contribute something to his own education. I pay for his tuition, books and he has a job as a tutor which gives him some spending money. He tries to be as independent as he wants to be. I respect it, and he knows I’m there if he ever needs anything.”

“Admirable.”

“He is. He was pretty excited about the beach house though. Buffy found it on some real estate website, and thought it looked nice. Never hurts to have an investment.”

Angel gave John a dubious look, but didn’t comment—he just sat back and stared at the ceiling of the plane—lost in his own thoughts. 

“Faith was fairly impressive taking Bane out.” John piped up lowly. “She’s a much different fighter than Buffy is.”

Angel hummed as he considered John’s words. It was a few moments later he replied...

“I’ve fought them both, and yes—they are much different in how they approach their Slaying.”

Feeling Daggett’s eyes on him, Angel decided to clarify...

“Buffy is very much like a soldier in how she approaches her destiny. She trains, she strategizes, she uses her resources much like a field general. She’s methodical, dispassionate and resolved. She will use whatever tools are necessary to see her objectives through. It’s why she’s lived as long as she has, and why the Powers have allowed her to return to the land of the living despite dying more than once.”

“And Faith?”

There was a weighted pause before Angel answered and when he did, John could hear a tinge of something that sounded an awful lot like sadness in Angel’s voice. 

“Faith is purely instinct. She’s passion and fire whereas Buffy, is controlled and ice. But with that fire, Faith tends to be impetuous, and reactionary. She’s better than she used to be, and there was a time when she gave herself over to the darkness of her powers and lost her way.”

“I do know about that. Buffy and Faith finally had it out a while back. Faced their demons, got out their anger for the past and finally put it where it belongs.”

Angel cocked his head to the side, gazing at John with bright eyes that were stunned. 

“Really?”

“Mmhmm,” John admitted, “Wayne was there too. It took a while, but they were finally able to get to the heart of their issues...or at least, Buffy was finally able to admit why she’s had such a hard time forgiving Faith for their contentious past.”

“And that was?”

“ _You_.”

Staring at Daggett, Angel had to admit he wasn’t exactly surprised by this news. He’d always known that Buffy had been very hurt by his refusal to allow her to take out her vengeance on Faith for what happened in Sunnydale, and with Riley Finn. Angel had decided to save Faith’s soul, and chose to do that over the love he’d held for Buffy. 

It was a decision he’d never regretted making and would never regret making. 

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Angel said at last. 

“You love them both.” John bit out, as he leant forward, considering the vampire curiously. 

“I do.” Angel admitted quietly. “Differently, but _equally_.”

“How?”

“Buffy was my first love. Even though I’ve been alive for nearly three centuries, I had never loved another person, nor vampire as I am now. As Angelus, my sire—Darla—we had a relationship for over two centuries. But we were both cruel and bloodthirsty, and took delight in carnage and chaos. Not exactly the foundations for a healthy relationship. After my soul was returned, I’d wandered for almost a hundred years dealing with the infinite remorse over my previous actions. It wasn’t until I met Buffy, that I found the wherewithal to actually attempt to live again.”

“And you fell in love.”

“I did. I was unaware of the exact parameters of the curse the Romani had gifted me with. When I reverted to Angelus, I left Buffy no choice but to kill me, which she did. My soul was returned to me right before she did so, and even then—she did the heroic thing and saved the world, despite her love for me.”

“Shit. That had to suck.”

Angel smirked and replied cattily, “Being run through with a sword was no more than I deserved.”

“Touché.”

“So you see? I could well understand Faith’s pain. It called to me in a way that nothing had, in a very long time. I saw myself in her, and could see how hard living was for her. The first time I fought Faith in earnest, she unleashed the full force of her Slayer powers on me in an effort to force my hand, so I’d kill her. When I’d realized what she was doing, I pulled back. Her reaction broke my heart.”

“Which was?” John asked, his voice tense with emotion. 

“She cried and _begged_ me to kill her. It was the first time I’d ever seen Faith lose that carefully crafted facade she’d employed to protect herself. As I held her in the pouring rain, I decided right then and there, that I would do anything and everything within my power to save her soul. _Nothing else mattered.”_

“Not even Buffy.”

“Not even Buffy.” Angel agreed tightly. 

“Faith said she fought you as Angelus.”

“Yes, that was years later. She allowed herself to be infected with a deadly serum and fought me in the hopes I’d bite her—thereby saving me. However, the serum created a psychic link when I did so, and I could feel Faith’s emotions in that moment. She had taken the serum, fully expecting it to take her life, but she didn’t care. She only wanted to save me, from myself. She again, begged me to let her die...”

“And you refused.”

“I did.”

“Shit.”

“Faith has had a death wish for a very long time. Right before she left for Gotham, we spoke. I could tell she was done.”

“Done?” John croaked. “As in suicidal?”

Angel didn’t immediately reply, and John didn’t need him to. He could figure it out on his own. 

“ _Fuck_.”

“Yes. However, I truly believe the Powers that Be knew where Faith’s mindset was at. It’s no coincidence that she met Bruce when she did. They are _fated_. I could see it clearly in Zurich. When Faith finally admitted to me that she didn’t want to die anymore, Bruce overheard and his reaction was devastating. I think he’d realized in that moment, where his heart was at and what he wanted.”

“Faith.”

“Yes. Bruce Wayne has his own darkness. But unlike Faith, he’s never become a slave to it. He uses its power to fight and as a consequence, has isolated himself. I don’t think he ever expected to find someone who could fight alongside him, accept his darkness and understand the rage that drives him.”

“And Faith does.”

“She does, because she’s the same. Faith craves control in many ways, but that has come as a consequence of having none. Bruce understands this, and loves her enough to give her what she needs to feel safe.”

“They are rather sickening.”

Angel chuckled again. “Yes.”

“I suppose it’s to be expected.”

Giving John a beleaguered look, Angel decided it was probably best to table anymore discussion about Wayne or Faith, but John had other ideas. 

“Are you heading straight back to Los Angeles after we land in Gotham?” John queried quietly, and Angel shook his head in the negative. 

“No, I’m meeting with Bruce. Apparently they’ve set a wedding date.”

“Really?” John sat up and stared at the vampire with incredulity. “He sure doesn’t waste time, does he?”

“No. I get the feeling that once Bruce makes up his mind about something, he isn’t one to stop until he gets his way.”

“Do you think he’s manipulating Faith?”

John watched in amused horror as Angel broke down into raucous laughter. It was a sight to see for the normally broody vampire, to lose control like that. 

After several long moments, Angel got himself a bit more under control as he smiled at John. 

“Excuse me? But have you _met_ Faith?”

Snickering softly, John had to admit a bit belatedly that Angel made an excellent point. 

“My bad.”

“It’s a testament to how deeply Faith feels for Bruce that she’s learning to compromise. Frankly, I didn’t think I’d ever actually see the day!”

Pausing briefly, John then asked curiously, “Is Buffy just as stubborn?”

“What do you think?”

“I think, old man, that you’re avoiding my question.”

“Only because you already know the answer to it, right?”

John didn’t reply, but he did roll his eyes for effect, causing Angel to smirk at him knowingly. 

Glancing out the plane’s window, John decided to broach the subject he’d been obsessing over for a while now. 

“Do you think?” He began slowly, “That Buffy would ever want to have children of her own someday?”

He could feel the weighted stare of the vampire on him, but John refused to look his way as he’d rather not give any indication of what he was thinking...

Much less feeling at the moment...

Several minutes passed and Angel didn’t speak, and John had to wonder if he’d crossed some invisible boundary...

But eventually the vampire did engage, and John sat back and took in Angel’s words, that were filled with sad regret and longing...

“Buffy has children in a way with the younger Slayers, that look to both she and Faith as a kind of mother figures. That will always be her responsibility, and then there is Dawn. I’d imagine there will come a time that Dawn marries, has children and Buffy will live vicariously through her younger sister. She’ll be an amazing aunt, who will offer love and acceptance, and I think it’ll be enough. Buffy has never expressed a desire to be a mother. And while I have no doubt she’d be great at it, I don’t think she’d ever choose the responsibility of it.”

“Faith didn’t either,” John postulated, “it was an accident.”

“So I’ve gathered, and yet she chose not to abort it. Faith hasn’t had a family, not since she was a child and there is a part of her that craves that life, even as she’s shied away from the idea of it. I think it had more to do with her own feelings of low self-esteem and self-loathing because of her past choices.”

“Do you think had Wayne not chosen to support her and their child, she would’ve kept it?”

“Yes, I do. She would’ve disappeared without a trace and raised her child on her own. Of that, I have no doubt.”

“Would you have helped her?”

“Yes, if she’d asked me to.”

John nodded thoughtfully. “And Wayne?”

Angel’s eyes locked with his, and John could see the truth of the vampire’s words before they ever came out of his mouth. “I would’ve _destroyed_ him.”

John chuckled and nodded in commiseration. “I would’ve helped you, just for the record. Does Wayne know this?”

“ **Yes**. Bruce knows what I expect of him. Luckily, he’s on the same page. The same warning applies for Buffy too.”

“I do know that, Angel. I’m many things, but an idiot isn’t one of them.”

“Are you heading on to California once we land?”

“No, I have some business to take care of. Buffy said she’d be back by the end of the week. She promised me we’d go public with our relationship once Talia and Bane were taken care of.”

“So you’re hoping she’ll stay in Gotham?”

“Yes. Realistically, I could probably run my company from anywhere, but Gotham is home.”

“That’ll be interesting having Buffy and Faith hanging out together in the same social circles.”

“I think it’ll be good that they’ll have each other for support.”

“I hope you’re right,” Angel mused, “I wonder how Bruce will feel about it though. I get the impression he’s rather unsociable.”

“He is.” John admitted with a sly grin. “He abhors social gatherings in general, but always manages to end up on the front of the society page, regardless. Usually with a gaggle of models on his arm. Who knew that was just a glorified front?”

“Theatricality and deception are tools the League of Shadows employs and trains all its soldiers in. Bruce learnt that lesson very well.”

“You sound like you admire him.”

“I admire his dedication to his cause, and his tenacity to see his vision fulfilled. Even you must admit, that once you’d discovered his secret? It made you rethink everything you’ve ever known about Bruce?”

“And then some.” John snarked out half-heartedly. “Did they tell you when they’re getting married?”

“Faith texted me. September 29th.”

“Shit, that’s in a month!”

“Yes. Bruce wanted to get married before they go to Russia and Faith demanded a honeymoon. Again, compromise.”

John snickered to himself, and had to wonder just what a spectacle Wayne’s wedding to Faith was going to turn into. 

He for one, was actually looking forward to it.


	59. Doctor’s Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Bruce hear their baby’s heartbeat for the first time.

Back in Gotham, Faith was getting ready for her appointment with her OB. It was scheduled for mid morning, and Bruce had left to go into work to meet with Lucius, to discuss the acquisition of Tate Conglomerate’s green technology and Paris assets. John and Bart had subsumed between them, Miranda’s southeast Asian assets—which were considerable. Angel had met with Bruce late last night, and handed him over Miranda’s blackmail files first. Bruce had downloaded and copied all the files, removed the parts he’d felt pertinent and then handed the final copy back to Angel to give over to John. 

Which Angel had done this morning before he’d left to return back to California, with a promise to return in a few weeks for the wedding. 

Faith had told Angel about the possibility of marrying Bruce in a church, and the vampire had shrugged helplessly but didn’t seem adverse to the idea of giving her away no matter which way it turned out. 

Gripping her stomach tightly, Faith sat down on the floor in her bathroom—a sudden wave of nausea overwhelming her senses. This morning sickness shit was hit or miss. She’d been great in New York, but coming back home had caused it to return. She didn’t know if it was a coincidence or not. 

She’d been so relaxed and free in New York, even with the drama and Bruce proposing. She’d enjoyed her time there, had made some new friends and had even gotten to slay something. 

Now back in Gotham, Faith had to deal with the constant barrage of the press outside...it was almost as if being in New York, their attention while intrusive, felt muddled because it had been a target rich environment. The news of her engagement to Bruce however, had been the leading story everyday on the local news since they’d returned. 

Glancing at the time on her phone, Faith sighed and crawled into the shower—eager to get the sick off of her and try to figure out how much longer this morning sickness shit was going to last. Dr. Brooks had sent an email yesterday, confirming their appointment, and Faith was anxious to hear the baby’s heartbeat, after everything that had happened. She knew instinctively that Damian would be fine, as the Powers had given her that foreknowledge, but it didn’t make the waiting and anticipation any easier to deal with. 

Washing her hair, she sat down on the floor of her shower and stared at the beautiful ring that Bruce had given her. She’d been reluctant to remove it, even for bathing...and she sighed at how exquisite and perfect it was. Thinking back to how things had started with Bruce a couple months ago, it was hard to fathom that in a month, she would be his wife...

...Mrs. Bruce Wayne...

 _Married_!

Shaking her head and huffing in resignation, she had to admit that there were times—not many but some—where she still expected to wake up and find out that this had been one big fantasy on her part...

A cosmic joke at her expense. 

Going through the motions of bathing and then afterwards, Faith eventually found herself staring into her mirror, cupping her belly with both her hands. 

How in the world was she supposed to be a good mother? 

She knew she could and would keep Damian safe from anyone who might try and harm him. She could teach him to fight like a warrior, and Bruce would teach him all the intellectual, mumbo jumbo he’d need to be book and business smart. Roger would help with the etiquette training, and Alfred would too. 

She wasn’t worried about the superlative issues—

She was more worried if she’d be able to open her heart up enough, so that Damian would feel secure in her love for him. 

If nothing else, she never wanted her son to doubt that he was loved and wanted, despite how he’d come about. 

A divine accident?

 _Maybe_...

Probably more like a planned gift, but it mattered little at this point. 

In thirty two weeks, give or take, she was going to be a mom and Faith knew herself well enough to know, that the second she heard Damian’s heartbeat today, the theoretical would instantly become the factual. 

And all bets would be off.

“Gorgeous?”

Faith gasped as she turned to see Bruce standing there in her open doorway, his expression filled with love and concern. 

“Hey.” She smiled softly. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Bruce moved carefully into Faith’s bedroom and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, as he set his chin on her shoulder, their eyes now locked in the mirror’s reflection. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just processing.”

“About?”

“So much.” Faith admitted quietly. “I’m nervous for today.”

Bruce hummed, as he kissed her cheek sweetly. “Me too.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I know once I hear his heartbeat, that’s it. It’s no longer just some wonderful abstract idea...”

“I was thinking the exact same thing.” She turned in his arms and lifted her hands over his shoulders to rest at the base of his neck. She could feel Bruce’s emotions keenly. Nervous anticipation, excitement, worry—there was even a hint of shame and sorrow too. 

“Don’t beat yourself up, Krasivyy. Neither one of us planned this, it’s true...but that doesn’t mean that Damian won’t be beyond loved and wanted, right?”

“Right.”

“I’m not sorry we got pregnant. I don’t even wish it had happened under different circumstances. I think for us? This was the way it needed to happen. To shake us both out of our comfort zones and maybe our selfish tendencies?”

Bruce chuckled deeply and nodded in reply. 

“I will never stop wondering how you do that, Gorgeous. How you can see things so _clearly_.”

“I just hope you don’t ever come to resent it.”

“Why would you ever think that?” Bruce admonished. “It’s a gift from the Powers that Be. One in which you’ll teach our son how to use to his advantage. He will be able to see so much of what others miss, because his Mother is just that amazing.”

Faith felt her chest tighten at Bruce’s wonderful words. 

“I want him to be as much of a warrior as we are. I don’t know what I would do if someone ever tried to harm him, Bruce.”

Cupping Faith’s cheeks, Bruce kissed her reassuringly. As he pulled back he said with conviction, “Nothing and no one will ever harm our son. Of that, you have my solemn word. I will destroy anyone who tries.”

“ _Promise me.”_

“I promise, Gorgeous.”

Faith allowed herself to be swept into Bruce’s embrace, and they just held each other for several minutes until she stepped back with a soft exhalation.

“We should probably get going?”

“We should,” Bruce offered agreeably, “do you have everything?”

“Yep. Do you have to go back to work after my appointment?”

“I do, why?”

“No reason exactly,” Faith replied evenly, “I was going to head over to Gotham Terrace. A few of the girls are leaving today to head back to their home bases.”

“Oh? Whom?”

“Eve is going back to Boston, but she’ll be back for the wedding. Colleen is heading back to St. Louis to visit her grandmother, and Chao Ahn is leaving for Hong Kong.”

“Are the other girls staying here?”

“Kennedy and Shannon will be going to New York, day after tomorrow and stay until the wedding. Dawn, Giles, and Willow are flying to London tomorrow.”

“And Buffy?”

“She’s in Malibu, helping Zac Daggett get situated but she will be home tomorrow. Rona and Violet are staying here for now. Nikki and Amanda haven’t decided yet what they’re going to do.”

“Do you think Violet will go back to Chicago eventually?”

Faith went to grab her purse, and followed Bruce into the elevator as she replied, “I talked to Giles about it, and when Violet goes back to Chicago—Rona will be going with her. Some of the newer potentials will eventually be paired with a mentor from the original Sunnydale group. Giles thinks, and both Buffy and I agree, that it’s probably a good idea to have the potentials work in pairs from now on.”

The elevator descended and stopped at the garage, and Bruce led Faith over to his Lamborghini, helping her inside before he went around to the driver’s side and got in. After making sure she was buckled in properly, Bruce started the car and headed out towards Gotham General. 

“I think that’s a smart idea.” He said finally. “How do the girls feel about it?”

“They’re surprisingly okay with the idea. After what happened to Violet, I think everyone feels better having a buddy.”

“This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Bruce reached for Faith’s hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back of her knuckles. 

“You’re amazing, Gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

The drive to Gotham General was fairly straightforward as there was minimal traffic, and fortunately there didn’t seem to be any lurking news reporters following his car. When he pulled into the parking garage at the hospital, he led Faith to a private staircase near the loading dock.

“Is this a secret way in?”

“It’s not one that many people know,” Bruce clarified, “usually the freight elevators are only accessed by the hospital workers, but I was able to procure access for us today.”

“Your administrator buddy?”

“Yes.” Bruce smirked. “Emmett was more than happy to accommodate us, in fact? He should be waiting for us inside.”

And sure enough, Bruce was right. Dr. Emmett Winston, Chief Administrator for Gotham General was just inside the nondescript metal door, near the loading dock. 

“Hello, Bruce.”

“Emmett.” The two men shook hands firmly, and then the older gentleman turned to Faith and bowed in welcome. 

“Your Grace.”

“Hi, but I’m just Faith, if that’s okay.”

Emmett nodded and smiled, before waving them to follow him through security to the astonishment of those working there.

“Dr. Brooks has settled in nicely,” Emmett offered, “and she was quite thrilled to hear of the state of the art NICU we are implementing. The new wing should be opening up before the end of the year.”

“Glad to hear it.” Bruce replied genuinely. “My parents would’ve approved of the new wing being named for them.”

“This place was a second home for your Father. He was a brilliant surgeon. I have no doubt if he were here today, he’d be running things.”

Bruce chuckled and nodded, surprised that the thought of his Father and what might’ve been didn’t automatically engender feelings of guilt and loss like it normally did. 

Maybe he was finally starting to heal and forgive himself.

 _“Your dad was a surgeon?”_ Faith asked silently, and Bruce nodded, wracking his brain—trying to remember if he had ever mentioned it.

“I thought I’d told you?”

“Probably.”

“Yes, he was. He was a well respected surgeon here at the hospital and offered his services free of charge for anyone who needed it.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm, medicine was his passion. He was a philanthropist and ran Wayne Enterprises, which he’d inherited from my Grandfather—but business was secondary to this place.”

“How did your Grandfather take it when your Dad decided to be a doctor?”

Bruce shrugged. “I don’t remember my Grandfather. He passed before I was born, but my parents never talked about him much.”

Emmett listened in on the young Wayne Heir’s conversation with interest. He’d known Bruce his entire life, and had seen with his own eyes how devastated the young man had been after his parents had died. The loss of Thomas and Martha Wayne had hit so many people from all walks of life, throughout the city. They were beloved by all, for their kindness and genuine love of charity. Watching Bruce grow after Thomas death, had been hard for many who had expected him to follow in Thomas footsteps. When he’d disappeared for seven years, most of those within Gotham’s High Society had speculated rather unkindly, that the mantle of Thomas Wayne had become too much of a burden for young Bruce to bear, and he would never amount to the paragon his Father had been. 

But they had been wrong...

When Bruce had returned, Emmett had seen a completely different side to the young man. Gone was the apathetic and flighty youth, and in his place was a man who wanted the world to see one thing...

...while he molded himself into something else entirely. 

Emmett Winston was no fool. He’d figured it out about a year ago, that Bruce was Batman. There would’ve been no other reason for him to return home—

Many of those within Gotham felt it was due to Wayne Enterprises going public, and Bruce refusing to allow his family’s legacy to be left to ruination by corporate greed...

...and that might’ve been part of it—

But it wasn’t all of it.

“Here is the OB wing.” Emmett said at last. “Dr. Brooks office is the last door on the left. She has her own private nurse who will do your intake, Faith—and set up your follow up visits.”

“Thank you, Emmett.” Bruce held out his hand again, and the older man shook it with relish. 

“If you need anything?”

“We will.” Bruce smiled again, before he clapped the man on the shoulder and said, “We are getting married next month on the 29th. Keep the date open, yes?”

Emmett grinned from ear to ear, as he chuckled happily. “Of course! Wouldn’t miss it!”

“Thank you, Dr. Winston.” Faith piped up softly, and the older gentleman’s expression softened noticeably.

“It’s my pleasure, Young Lady. It does this old man’s heart well, to see this one,” he lifted his chin towards Bruce with a wink, “Happy and settled. I do believe that Thomas would’ve been thrilled to see you two together, if he were here.”

“Thank you.” Faith offered with a tremulous smile. “And thank you for convincing Dr. Brooks to come here to Gotham. I don’t think I would’ve been comfortable with anyone else.”

“It’s not a problem.” He knocked on Alice Brooks door, and an older woman answered it. 

“Nurse Carter, Dr. Brooks patient is here.”

“Of course, Dr. Winston.” The graying woman with glasses smiled in welcome and waved them inside, before nodding to the hospital Chief in parting. “Let’s get you settled in.”

Nurse Carter took her weight and blood pressure, asked several questions and then led Bruce and Faith towards a back exam room. 

“There are gowns in the closet to your left. You can put any personal items in there as well. Once you’re situated, there’s a cup on the exam tray. Take it into the bathroom and fill it. We will need to do a urine check. Then you can wait on the exam bed and Dr. Brooks will be in shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Faith was impressed with the the Nurse’s professionalism, and it only took her about five minutes to get undressed and do the pee test before she was back in the exam room waiting for her doctor to arrive. 

When the knock sounded on the door, Bruce reached for her hand as she called softly, “Come in.”

Alice Brooks peeked around the corner with a welcoming smile on her face. 

“Hello, Faith.”

“Hi, Doc.”

Alice Brooks took in the handsome man next to her patient, and nodded in welcome. She didn’t need a formal introduction to know whom he was. 

Everyone knew who Bruce Wayne was. 

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Hello, Dr. Brooks. I wanted to say for myself and Faith how much we appreciate your willingness to relocate.”

Alice smirked and turned to Faith, as her eyebrow cocked questioningly. “You’re both, welcome.” She replied amused. “Dr. Winston, was very persuasive.”

“He can be.” Bruce chuckled. 

Alice turned to Faith and sighed. “How are you?”

“Five by five.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean this wasn’t planned as you know—but we’re happy about it.”

“So, those options we’d discussed?”

“ _No_.”

Alice nodded, turning to get the ultrasound machine ready—so she missed Bruce’s frown as he glanced at Faith, who shook her head at him. 

“This is a Doppler ultrasound machine that allows us to hear the baby’s heartbeat and this wand here?” She held up something that looked like a vaginal dildo, “Is a vaginal wand that will let us see images of your baby much clearer.”

“Okay.” Faith breathed out, and Bruce squeezed her hand again, sensing her nervousness.

Laying down on the exam bed, Faith felt Bruce move alongside her on the right as Dr. Brooks set up everything on her left side. When her gown was slid to the side, she instinctively reached for her stomach with her left hand, causing Dr. Brooks to smile softly. 

“This is a gel, and it’ll warm quickly. The first monitor just goes over your lower stomach, alright?”

“Okay.” Faith nodded, her gaze now fixated on the machine. She felt Bruce lips on her hand, but she couldn’t look away. 

Dark brown eyes watched Dr. Brooks squeeze out the gel, and Faith hissed softly as it hit her stomach, her body instinctively clenching at the contact, and then relaxed as it warmed up. Once the small cartridge like box was placed on her abdomen, it didn’t even take a minute until the room was filled with the sounds of Damian’s heartbeat. 

“Oh my _God_! Is that what I think it is?” She blurted out in awe, tears streaming down her cheeks as Dr. Brooks nodded. It was then that she heard Bruce’s throat clearing not so subtly next to her. Turning her head, she could see tears in Bruce’s eyes as he stared at her in wonder and whispered out emotively, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

Alice Brooks smiled to herself in parts relieved—

She had worried for Faith, and wondered if she would eventually make the decision to terminate the pregnancy, but the fact that she hadn’t, pleased her greatly. 

If anyone deserved a happily ever after, it was the woman laying on the exam bed.

“The heartbeat sounds good and strong.” Alice confirmed, before taking off the cartridge and wiping the gel off Faith’s tummy. She reached for the vaginal wand and a few moments later, more images appeared on the screen. 

Both Bruce and Faith were gaping at the images like every other excited parents to be. 

“At eight weeks, your baby is the size of a kidney bean. Fingers and toes are there and webbed...” she pointed out on the screen. “Respiratory system is developing, as are eyelids and ears.”

“Wow!” Faith breathed out, her gaze fixated on the screen. “That’s so cool!”

Alice tittered a laugh, and Bruce chuckled too in agreement. “It is.”

When the ultrasound was done, Faith got redressed and waited for Dr. Brooks to return to the room, which she did about ten minutes later along with a set of images in her hands. 

“These are for you both.”

“Wow!” Faith stared down at the pictures, and felt Bruce’s arm around her as he too, gazed down lovingly at the photos. 

“I will want to see you back in four weeks. Have you been having any issues with morning sickness?”

“Yes.”

“That’s normal. Based on your weight previously from six months ago, you’ve not put on any weight, but that’s not unusual. A normal weight gain for pregnancy can vary, but twenty to twenty-four pounds is average. You may have some spotting, and I’ll want to know if it happens but that’s not unusual either. Sex is fine, Faith. But I’m going to advise you to be mindful as you get further along in your pregnancy that certain sexual practices...”

“No, I get it.” Faith nodded and Bruce blushed slightly. 

“Good,” Dr. Brooks returned the gesture, “that’s not to say you can’t enjoy an active sex life. Exercise is fine too, in fact, it’s a good idea to keep yourself active. No smoking or drinking though.”

“I know,” Faith sighed, “It’s funny, cause when I smell tobacco now it makes me want to hurl.”

Alice grinned, while Bruce snickered at that. 

“For the best.” He said seriously, and Faith stuck her tongue out at him petulantly. 

“What about traveling?” Faith queried seriously.

“Shouldn’t be a problem. Are you thinking about international travel?”

“Yeah.” Faith admitted with a sigh. “We are getting married next month,” Dr. Brooks eyes widened at that piece of information as Faith forged on, “and Bruce is planning our honeymoon.”

“I see.” Alice hummed thoughtfully. “You have all your vaccinations current, yes?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I suppose it might depend on where you’re going, but I’d think most places should be fine. If you’re going somewhere sub-tropical, I’d recommend drinking only bottled water and staying away from any raw fish or processed or raw meat products. No sushi. Tuna is another one I’d advise you steer clear of. There are several kinds of fish that are higher in mercury, so avoid those as well. Make sure all your produce is washed thoroughly, no raw sprouts, no caffeine and no raw eggs.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Faith quipped. 

“Have you been taking your vitamins?”

“Yes. I need to fill my prescription for some more though.” She explained and grimaced at the thought. 

“The hospital has a pharmacy, and if you’re concerned about filling the prescription, I’d understand it.”

Bruce’s expression darkened at the comment. “Were you able to determine just how Faith’s previous medications were tampered with?”

“No. Her batch wasn’t the only one, so it was something that would’ve had to have happened at the manufacturing end.”

“Would it be possible to get the information of the company directly?” Bruce inquired.

“Yes, I suppose it would be, is there a reason?” 

Bruce glanced at Faith, and she sighed and nodded. 

“We found out who was behind the switch up, but we don’t know how he did it.”

Dr. Brooks paled. “Might I ask, whom?”

“The Joker.” Faith replied quietly. “His given name was Jack Napier, and it’s a really long, and kinda personal story.”

“I see.” Dr. Brooks didn’t exactly understand, but she knew enough of Faith’s background to know that the woman before her was more than what she appeared to be. 

Her sister had indicated as much without going into too many specifics. 

Faith Lehane’s kidnapping by the Joker had been national news, as had her engagement to Bruce Wayne. Alice had to admit, the man himself was even more handsome in person than on TV or in print. She didn’t necessarily swing that way, but his charisma was undeniable.

“Let me get you the information.” Dr. Brooks offered kindly. “I will see you for your twelve week check up and every four weeks after, until you hit your last trimester and then I’ll want to see you every two weeks. We will check the baby’s heartbeat at each visit and at sixteen weeks we will be doing a blood test. This is done to check for any possible pre-natal birth defects. At twenty weeks, you will have the option to do a 4D sonogram, which is quite comprehensive and will allow you to see the baby’s gender if you’d want.”

Bruce smirked, but Faith just nodded again. “That’d be cool.”

“How’s the stress been with everything?”

“Five by five.”

Dr. Brooks grinned at Faith’s signature saying. “Make sure to keep it at a minimum. As we get closer to the delivery date, we can talk about birthing options.”

“Home birth?” Bruce inquired and Dr. Brooks nodded. 

“That is an option.”

Faith glanced up at Bruce, and he sighed. “Might be a good idea.” Was all he said, and Faith had to agree that Bruce might be right. 

“As long as there’s no issues during the pregnancy and everything stays low risk, then a home birth may be an option,” Dr. Brooks clarified, “however, the hospital apparently is getting a state of the art NICU...”

“I did hear about that.” Bruce’s smirk reappeared, and Alice Brooks chuckled. 

“Dr. Winston was rather thrilled to share that piece of news with me, when he offered me the job.”

Bruce didn’t reply, but Faith nudged him with her hip which caused him to grin down at her knowingly. Alice smiled inwardly at how well suited the couple in front of her appeared to be. In all the years she’d been treating Faith, she’d never seen the woman look this happy or carefree. There had always been a serious dark edge to her demeanor, that radiated pain and aggression. She knew enough from her appointments as well as what her sister, Felicity did for a living, to know that Faith Lehane likely had some controlling tendencies...and it made her wonder just how the man in front of her—who by all accounts was a rather noted playboy, dealt with that. 

“Was there anything else you needed to discuss today?”

“Nope, I’m good.” Faith chirped with a smirk of her own, not missing Alice Brooks emotional curiosity—it was likely not just professional either. Faith knew the woman was more likely to be inclined in her general direction than Bruce’s—but it didn’t mean that she was immune to Bruce’s charms either. 

“Then I’ll see you in a month.” Alice nodded. “You have my number, so call me if you need anything.”

“Sounds good.”

“Thank you, Dr. Brooks.” Bruce held out his hand, which the woman took and shook firmly in parting. 

“You’re welcome, Mr. Wayne.”

When they left the exam room, they made their way to the front office and scheduled Faith’s next appointment for the Thursday before their wedding—September 27th. When they were out of the office, Emmett was waiting for them both. 

“Everything go well?”

“Everything is perfect, Emmett.”

“Good.” The man walked with them to the security exit at the receiving dock. “You can make your way through here for each follow-up appointment. Security knows to let you through.”

“Thanks, Emmett.”

“It’s not a problem, Bruce. Call me if you need anything.”

“We will.

The man nodded and left them at the security check point and as they walked out to Bruce’s car, the man in question pulled his fiancée into his side protectively. Faith could feel Bruce’s emotions shift and she sighed softly. He didn’t say anything however, until they were almost back home. 

“ _How close were you?”_

Faith wasn’t going to insult Bruce’s intelligence by playing dumb. 

“When I called her about the birth control pills, she told me to take several home pregnancy tests and call her back when I had the results—which I did. She was kind enough to have a colleague of hers come and do the blood work discreetly. She explained that I had options, which I knew enough to know what she’d meant. But, I don’t think it really registered with me at first. The truth was, I didn’t make the decision until Jack kidnapped me. When he was taunting me, and told me about what he’d done with my birth control...” her voice fell away and Bruce reached for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. 

“What?” He whispered questioningly. 

“He’d initially planned to leave me there with about a minute to escape. He’d taunted me and said that he _knew_ you’d bailed, and didn’t want the baby—so he’d figured you’d be relieved if I lost it.”

Bruce clenched his jaw angrily, and Faith could feel his rage simmering beneath the surface as she forged on...

“I’d realized it then, that Jack would never stop hunting me and trying to ruin my life and I wasn’t going to let him come after my child. I think that’s when I decided that I’d wanted to keep the baby. So I got him to tell me how he’d planned to keep me captive. I broke through the bonds, and slammed the steel door closed—trapping us both. I then threw my knife at him, slicing through his hand that was holding the bomb trigger and it activated. He took out a gun, but apparently he wasn’t as good of a shot with his left hand. I jumped up to the top of the rafters...about thirty feet to the top window. At about five seconds down I could hear him screaming, trying to deactivate the bomb, and that’s when I broke through the window just as the explosion went off. It threw me far enough that I landed in the river.”

Faith glanced over at Bruce, and she could see his fury and feel his anger and despair too. 

“ _Don’t, Bruce.”_

He side-eyed her, but didn’t immediately respond. 

“I know you’re angry right now, I can _feel_ it...but we can’t change what happened.”

“No, you’re right,” He admitted harshly, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I almost lost you both because of my own **stupidity**.”

“The timing wasn’t ideal,” Faith shrugged, “but I try to look at it from a positive angle.”

“Which is?”

“Jack is _dead_ , and Damian is safe. It’s not the worst experience I’ve ever been through, Bruce.”

“And if you hadn’t been pregnant?” He asked lowly, and Faith’s face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Would you have?”

“Oh?” Her expression cleared and she shook her head. “Bruce, if I hadn’t been pregnant it would’ve changed so much about what happened that night. I might’ve tried harder to fight, but who knows how that would’ve turned out? We wouldn’t have been estranged...” Faith hummed out thoughtfully, “My emotions were compromised that night. I wasn’t at my best and frankly, I’d like to think I would’ve been far more aggressive in taking Jack out.”

Bruce chuckled and nodded. “I’ll admit, I had been floored when Alfred had told me you’d been taken. I’d never expected that to happen.”

“I know.”

Bruce pulled into the Penthouse garage and parked in his normal spot. When he shut off the car, he turned and unbuckled her seatbelt and then pulled her into his lap, cradling her into his body and kissed her deeply. 

It was several minutes before they came up for air. 

“I wish I could go back...”

Faith shushed him and placed her left fingers against Bruce’s lips, her engagement ring winking at her in the lowlight. 

“Don’t, Krasivyy. We can’t change what happened, and I’m not going to dwell on it.”

Faith watched as Bruce cupped her belly with reverence, even as his eyes welled with tears. “When the explosion...” he shook his head and swallowed heavily, “I don’t think in my entire life, I’ve ever been so scared as I was in those moments when I’d thought you and our son were gone. Buffy had to pull me back from running into the warehouse.”

“Bruce...”

Hazel eyes filled with regret and remorse, stared back at her—and Faith ran her hand down the side of Bruce’s head, through his hair and cupped his cheek tenderly, her thumb wiping the stray tears away. 

“I wouldn’t have wanted to go on...”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s _true_.” He whispered out in agony. “That is why I’ve spent so much of my life shutting myself off from my emotions. Why I couldn’t allow myself to open up and feel again, because...”

“It makes you vulnerable.”

“Yes.”

“I know.”

“I know you do.”

Faith placed a gentle kiss on Bruce’s lips and felt him immediately respond, instantly deepening the kiss into something more needful. 

“I love you.” He whispered emphatically between kisses, and Faith smiled. 

“I love you just as much.”

His relieved sigh, melted her heart and Faith had to wonder of the two of them, who was the more emotionally damaged and in need of healing. 

Bruce kissed her one last time, and then carefully resettled her into her seat before he opened his door and got out, coming around and helping her out of the car like the consummate gentleman he was. 

Several minutes later, they were back upstairs in his Penthouse, snuggling on the couch and watching the world go by outside.

“You hungry?” He asked, and she nodded. 

“Sure.” Her face then morphed into a questioning look as she asked curiously, “I thought you were going back into work today?”

“Changed my mind.”

“Must be nice.”

“Being the boss has its perks.”

Faith giggled softly, and felt Bruce’s body shake as he too, was laughing at his own joke. 

“I never did ask, but did you manage to get your contractor to add that room we discussed?”

Bruce grinned and hummed in the affirmative. “I was able to change the plans somewhat to accommodate a larger room near my parents old suite of rooms, which will be ours.”

“And Damian?”

“There is a nursery suite just off the Master Bedroom. My parents rooms were called the Regency Rooms, and it was where I was born. I’ve hired a secondary contractor and team, which they started two weeks ago. The Manor will be done before the end of the year, weather permitting.”

Faith sat up and stared at Bruce in shock. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I just _did_.” He grinned playfully. 

“And how much more did that cost you?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Uhm...yes!”

“The Manor rebuild was initially estimated to cost about 200 million.”

“Excuse me?” Faith’s face paled and Bruce smirked. 

“That was an estimate, Gorgeous. Construction costs usually end up being considerably more once the permits come in, and incidentals are chosen. I added a few other options last minute, which increased the cost.”

“Like?”

“An indoor swimming pool, for one. A customized dojo and a home entertainment theatre.”

“Shit.”

“That, along with hiring a secondary crew raised the cost significantly.”

“How, significantly?”

“It more than doubled the original estimate.”

“Bruce!” Faith stood up with a scowl marring her pretty face. “That’s half a billion dollars!”

He chuckled, pulling her down into his lap and kissed her. 

She was fucking adorable. 

“Gorgeous, you do realize between the both of us? We are filthy rich, and if I had to guess? That amount is probably less than what your interest account accrues in a year. Am I right?”

She stuck her tongue out at him, which caused him to throw his head back as he laughed. 

“So?” She snarked. “It’s still a lot of money.”

“Yes, and this is going to be our home. This is where our children will be growing up. This is also the place where my state of the art Batcave is being built. The construction company is securing the foundations under the Manor as we speak. Once done, Angel has agreed to have a special team from Wolfram and Hart come in and help me construct the caverns appropriately. That alone contributes over a fourth of the cost.”

“Oh?” Faith blushed sheepishly, not even considering that caveat. “How big are the caverns?”

“Huge. Wayne Manor sits on over 150 acres of protected land.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. In fact? Would you like to take a drive out there? I’d be happy to show you around and you can get a feel for what the rooms are like.”

“Really?”

Bruce grinned at Faith’s eager expression and his heart lifted.

“Let’s get changed, and we will head out. It’s about an hour to the Palisades, on the outskirts of Gotham.”

“Cool!” 

Bruce chuckled as he watched Faith bolt for the elevator, and as he made his way upstairs, he ran into Alfred.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred queried politely, “Did everything go well today?”

“Perfect, Alfred. I’m going to take Faith for a drive out to the Manor.”

Alfred grinned and nodded. “Very good, Sir. Would you like me to prepare dinner for you both?”

“Actually, would you mind preparing a picnic for us?”

“Not at all, Master Wayne. Give me about twenty minutes and I’ll have that ready for you.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

Bruce rushed upstairs, a huge smiling brimming on his face. He was excited to show Faith what their home would look like. He chuckled at that. It had been far too long since he’d considered Wayne Manor his home. He remembered once telling Alfred the day he’d come back for Chill’s hearing, that he wasn’t coming back to the Manor. That it wasn’t his home anymore, because the people who’d made it that way were gone. He frowned as he considered those words now, and how utterly selfish they’d been. Alfred had spent years taking care of him and his home, and never once had the man asked for a thank you, nor expected anything in return. He’d done his job, more out of love than duty and Bruce had to wonder why it was that Alfred had never given up on him. 

Now Wayne Manor would be a home again. Filled with light, love and the laughter of his and Faith’s children. That thought, even a month ago would’ve filled him with dread, but now? 

He was excited for it, and couldn’t wait to hold his son in his arms.

“ _Fuck_.” He whispered out in disbelief at his own stupidity, before his face softened into a gentle smile. He couldn’t wait to see Faith’s expression when she took in the Manor for the first time. 

He could only hope she’d love it just as much as he did. 

Because if nothing else, she was his home now and wherever she was? 

_That’s where he wanted to be._


	60. Wayne Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce takes Faith to his ancestral home.

The drive out to Wayne Manor had been filled with a comfortable silence as Faith kept watch out the window, the scenery passing by, silently memorizing the route between the Penthouse and her future home. Once they’d reached the outskirts of Gotham City, it almost felt like a different world. 

_Idyllic_...

Then Bruce turned off the main road, and about two hundred yards ahead, there was a huge gate with what was probably the Wayne family crest on it, and Faith’s eyes widened in wonder. The gate had to be at least sixty feet tall. 

“That’s huge.” She whispered in awe. 

“The gate surrounds most of the property,” Bruce admitted proudly, “the contractors are making sure it’s reinforced and up to code, but the original stone and iron work took six years to make and install. My Grandfather was insistent that the property remain protected. The only area that doesn’t have the gate is near the waterfall that leads into the underground caverns. It’s a dirt access fire road, and is owned by me under a shell corporation.”

“Ah, so no one knows it’s you?”

“Exactly.” 

Bruce pressed a button in the car, and the gate opened automatically. It was another mile before they came to where the road turned towards the front of the Manor proper. 

When it came into view, Faith’s breath hitched in shock. 

“ _Fuck me_.” She whispered, her deep brown eyes taking in the new outer stone facing of the towers to the north and south. “How big is this place, Bruce?”

“Square footage? A bit over 40,000. Not including the caverns which are about another 12,000 square feet, give or take? There are eleven bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a formal dining and living room, a ballroom, a large industrial kitchen, a wine cellar, a solarium, a smaller family room, an entertainment room, a workout room, your customized dojo, an indoor pool room and sauna, a billiards rooms, a formal library, a music room and a wet room.”

Faith just sat back stunned, as she processed Bruce’s words. They drove past the large fountain and came to the front part of the Manor, where there were a set of large stone steps leading to the front door of the house. 

“The garage is in the back, and is large enough to house eight cars.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe.” He winked, as he parked the car and turned off the engine. Faith noticed there were several large trucks, and workmen moving in and out of the property. Bruce got out of the car, and as he moved over to let her out, she heard someone calling his name. 

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Hello, Chad.”

“Wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Well, I have someone with me.” 

Bruce opened Faith’s door, and held out his hand for his fiancée, which she took immediately. The second she came into view, the sounds of work around the area stopped.

Smirking proudly, he pulled her into his side, closing her door and turned to face his foreman. 

“Gorgeous, this is Chad Taylor, my foreman.” Bruce gestured to the other man who was probably ten years Bruce’s senior. “Chad, this is my wife to be, Faith Lehane.”

The man just stood there dumbstruck as he blurted out, “Miss Lehane, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thanks. Likewise.” Her eyes flitted to several of the workers who were staring with awe, “Looks like you have your work cut out for you?”

Chad smiled and nodded. “It’s been a project. If you two are going to tour the place, hard hats are over to the right in the work van. Do you need a guide, Mr. Wayne?”

“No, Chad—I think I can show Faith around just fine. Did the Italian marble ever arrive?”

“It did last Thursday. Randy seems to think there might not be enough to use it for the indoor pool and the adjoining amphitheater going out into the backyard. I placed a call to the vendor, to verify why the shipment seemed to be six palettes short.”

“Is it going to be a problem?”

“I’m hoping not, Sir. I should have an answer no later than midweek.”

“Keep me appraised. Is the Regency Room done yet?”

“Almost, the last of the additional work you requested will be finished next week. The master bathroom is done, as are the kitchen and the ballroom. The second level bedrooms are done, as are the bathrooms. I will just need you to pick out colors for the painters. The towers on the south and north third levels will be finished next month. The library, solarium and gymnasium will be the last rooms to be completed. If all goes well with the weather, I’m hoping to have the work finished by early December, Sir.”

Bruce nodded pleased. “Excellent news. Keep up the good work, Chad.”

“Will do, Mr. Wayne.”

The foreman nodded at Faith and she smiled brightly at him, before Bruce led her over to where the hard hats were and put hers on first, before settling his own on his head. Her mischievous smirk had him replying in kind. 

“Bruce Wayne, construction worker.” Faith deadpanned. “Suspenders, bare-chested?”

“ _Never gonna happen, Gorgeous.”_

“Never say never, Krasivyy.” 

He chuckled as he led her into the main foyer, and nodded to a few of the workers, who were openly gaping at Faith in awe. 

“Where are you taking me first?”

“Upstairs. Come on.”

The marble staircase which led from the first to second level was rather ostentatious, causing Faith to snicker. 

“What?” Bruce asked curiously. 

“ _Bruce, how in the world do you child proof this place?”_ She asked silently, and watched as his expression blanched, as he gazed around thoughtfully. “Is that a thing?”

“Oh my God! Of course it is, you dork!” She said out loud, before continuing on silently, “ _I might not be that knowledgeable about babies, but even I know about baby proofing a place.”_

“Well, I grew up here and I turned out just fine.”

“Yeah, you fell into an abandoned well, right? And we both know how that _turned_ out.”

Bruce grabbed Faith, and she squealed as he lifted her up and kissed her soundly. 

“Not nice.”

“But true.”

Shaking his head, Bruce noted that several of the construction workers were now grinning at them.

“I think we’ll figure it out.” He said at last, and Faith rolled her eyes, but wisely chose not to comment further. As they got to the first room, Faith took out her phone and started taking pictures. “What are you doing?”

“Blair asked me to get pictures of the rooms.”

“When did you talk to her?”

“I texted her before we left and she told me and I quote, ‘ _Get pictures of everything. I want to see where the natural light works in each of the rooms’_ — she was quite insistent.”

Bruce nodded in response. “She’s quite gifted.”

“She really is.” Faith hummed thoughtfully. “She has several dresses picked out for me, and she’s already spoken with the manager of the Ocelot and selected several caterers, too. She’s doing all this, plus school full time. That girl scares me.”

Snickering loudly, Bruce couldn’t help the grin that fell over his face. “Eleanor told me she’s a force of nature.”

“You think?”

As they moved into each room, Faith took pictures and sent them as she went. Blair texted back every so often and complained that she needed another picture of one of the rooms from a different angle. By the time they’d finished with the kitchen, Faith’s phone was ringing. 

“You’re a menace.” She quipped saucily, and heard Blair’s laugh on the other end. 

“Yeah, and? The last set of pictures were blurry. You’ll need to retake them. As for the Kitchen, it looks pretty straightforward. Do you like cornflower blue?”

“That’s a color?”

“Yes. With the light in your kitchen, you need to do something fresh, yet dramatic. With white cabinetry and gray marble countertops, you’ll need something to make it all flow together. I’ll send you some samples of different cornflower blues for the walls, and you’ll need to pick one. It’ll go with the steel appliances too. Yellow sunflowers will tie the look in nicely—soft, country, homey.”

“Anything else, Martha Stewart?”

“Yeah, the upstairs rooms should be done in softer color palates. Most of the furniture you bought was French provincialism chateau with a touch of modern flair. Neutral colors, except for that red velvet couch. Which would look great in any library, near the hearth. I would go with sage green for the walls in the largest bedroom upstairs. You can mix and match cremes, taupes with a hint of rose mauve as an accent, and any fresh flower choices would tie in well.”

“Anything _else_ , Yoda?”

“You’ll need three chandeliers for the ballroom. I know just the ones, too. They’re going to be pricey though.”

“How much we talking?”

“A million each.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yes, but trust me! They’ll be perfect!”

“I really don’t like you right now,” Faith barked as Bruce stood back, leaning against the wall with a completely smug look on his face. 

“Tell me, Blair? How much is this place gonna cost me to furnish, if I let you do it your way?”

“You really want the truth?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.”

“What you spent in New York?”

“Yes?”

“Times that by twenty, easily.”

“ _What the fuck?_!” Faith screeched and Bruce **lost** it! He bowled over and started laughing out loud, while the construction workers were literally gaping at them in shocked amusement. 

“Can she _say_ that?” One of the workers whispered to the other, and Faith, who’s hearing was always better than most, turned and pointed at the man in warning. 

“Fucking right, I can say whatever the hell I want to, in my own damn house!” She cried out angrily, and Bruce shook his head. 

“Gorgeous?”

“What?”

“ _Not nice.”_

“Bite me, Wayne.”

Glancing over at the workers, who were now all openly grinning at Faith, Bruce shook his head again, this time in bemusement. 

“You’ll have to forgive my fiancée, guys. She’s...”

“ _Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Bruce Wayne!”_

Everyone started to laugh—Blair however, was tutting on the other end of the phone. 

“You two, are too much.” She snarked, and Faith smirked at that. 

“I really think I need a smoke.”

“Can’t have one, Gorgeous.”

“I know!” She bit out petulantly. “I can’t smoke, or drink or eat crappy food.”

“You can have sex.” Blair quipped into her ear, and Faith snickered and nodded. 

“Well, there is that. Good point, Waldorf.”

“Yeah, yeah. The things I do for you.”

“I like you, you know. Which is saying something, because in general? I really tend not to like people.”

“I know, me neither. You need to come back to New York soon, to look at the dresses I’ve picked out for you.”

“Gods, you’re the worst.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Shut it. How about next weekend?”

“Sounds good, see you then. Keep Bruce at home though, more fun if it’s just us girls. And bring your two little sisters. I’d like to meet them.”

“I think I can do that.”

“Excellent. Stay out of trouble, Faith.”

“Can’t promise anything, Blair. How’s Chuck?”

“Still in Siberia. He seems to think he can buy my affections back with pretty trinkets.”

“Huh, sounds like he’s taking a page out of his old man’s playbook. Maybe you need to educate him a bit?”

“How?”

“Leave that to _me_.”

Blair giggled and said conspiratorially, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Faith hung up her phone and glared at her husband to be, who was smirking right back at her with the smuggest look, known to mankind. 

“Uberi eto vyrazheniye so svoyego litsa, Krasavchik.”

(Get that look off your face, Handsome)

“Moi izvineniya, krasotka. Ty ocharovatel'na, ty eto znayesh', pravda?”

(My apologies, Gorgeous. You're adorable, you know that, right?)

“Inogda mne interesno, ne brosili li menya v krolich'yu noru.”

(Sometimes I have to wonder if I've been thrown down the rabbit hole)

Bruce chuckled and then he lifted a questioning eyebrow and asked, “Vy poklonnik Alisy v strane chudes?”

(Are you a fan of Alice in Wonderland?)

“Pochemu vy sprashivayete?”

(Why do you ask?)

“Klub Osval'da. Nadeyus', Alisa ... vy ispol'zovali ssylku chudes, kogda razgovarivali s byvshim vladel'tsem?”

(Oswald's Club. Hope, Alice...you used the reference Wonderland when talking to the former owner?)

Faith grinned and replied in English, “Ah, I do remember that.”

“As do I.” Bruce leered challengingly, causing Faith’s grin to widen. 

“But, yes. I’m a fan of the book.”

“You’ve read it?”

“Many times, actually. Doesn’t change the fact he was whacked out on drugs when he wrote the thing.”

“That’s _speculation_.”

“Oh really?” Faith snarked. “You need to brush up on your history, Krasivyy. Ever heard of Laudanum?”

“No.”

“Huh? Well, would you look at that? Seems that Bruce Wayne doesn’t know _everything_ , huh?”

He moved over and gripped her, pulling her into his embrace and gazing down at her with love and adoration radiating from his expression—which was very clear to see. The construction workers who were watching them, were nodding to each other that the vaunted Wayne Heir, had finally met his match. 

“ _Enlighten me, Gorgeous.”_

“Laudanum was a widely used opioid during the nineteenth century. Contained 10% opium by weight, but it was easy to get for those who had the resources to do so. Common side effects were euphoria and dysphoria. And it was widely known that Lewis Carroll used the narcotic, so?”

“Circumstantial.”

“Whatever. Go home and _read_ it, Wayne—and then tell me I’m wrong. Alice eats a mushroom for goodness sakes! Then takes a ‘ _trip_ ’ down a rabbit hole? Mad Hatter, Cheshire Cat? _Please_!”

Bruce grinned and then was stunned by the loud guffaws of laughter, as he gazed over his shoulder and saw about eight of the contractors standing there, all nodding agreeably at Faith’s supposition. 

“See? Even these _smart_ gentlemen, who clearly have more sense than you do, agree with me.”

Their laughter got louder, and Bruce smirked. “You’re trouble.”

“Eh, you can handle a bit of trouble, Krasivyy. But you promised me food, and I’m starving!”

“Come on, Gorgeous. Far be it for me, that I don’t keep you happy.”

“Smart man.”

He just shook his head and took Faith’s left arm, as she waved to all the men with her right one, who were smiling widely at her. 

“Keep up the good work, boys!”

“Don’t encourage her.” Bruce mocked playfully, earning a snort from his fiancée and a new round of laughter from his construction team. 

Leading her to the music room, Bruce pointed towards the bookshelf on the far wall and said lowly, “That’s where the entrance will be.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm, there’s an underground elevator shaft that I closed off before the construction started. Once the construction is done, I will be adding access to that area again.”

“How old was Wayne Manor originally?”

“It was originally built in 1939 by my grandfather. My Father was born here in the Regency Room in 1942.”

“You know,” Faith admitted softly, as she allowed Bruce to take her back outside so they could remove their hard hats and grab the picnic basket he had in the back of the Mercedes. The one he’d taken to driving around, when he didn’t want to be followed, “I’ve been wondering about what my family’s history will look like when we go to Russia. I know some of the palaces are still standing, right?”

“Yes, why? Have you researched it?”

“Roger is making me, actually. Did you know that there are 15 palaces still in existence?”

“Really?” Bruce queried, “I had no idea that it was that many.”

“Yep. He’s shown me pictures and I have to admit, to see how my ancestors lived makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. Some of those palaces make Wayne Manor look like a small cottage.”

“Of that, I don’t doubt, Gorgeous. The Romanov’s ruled Russia for 300 years.”

“I know. It’s a long time, and I have to wonder what the people will think of me when we visit? Will they be accepting?”

“Yevgeny seemed to think so.” Bruce admitted sincerely, as he grabbed the picnic basket out of the trunk, while Faith took the blanket and draped it over her arm—following down a long pathway that lead to a small lake that bordered the northern part of the property. 

“I just don’t want to screw this up.”

“You won’t, Gorgeous. I know you’re worried about it, but I have every confidence that the people will love you.”

“Maybe.”

They walked the last mile of their hike in silence, until they got to a grove of trees near the edge of the lake. 

“What kind of trees are these?” Faith asked with interest. 

“Tulip trees. They were my mother’s favorite. We used to come down here when I was a young boy and picnic on Sunday afternoons.”

“It’s pretty.” Faith hummed, as she set out the large wool blanket on the ground. 

“This is the best time of the year, late summer—early fall.”

“When I was a young girl, my Mom and Babushka took me to Salem one Halloween. I remember how pretty the trees were, the colors changing.”

“Do you like Halloween?”

“Yeah, I do. Actually, vampires and demons typically sit Halloween out.”

Bruce’s eyes widened as he coughed out a shocked, “Really? I’d think they’d love it.”

“Nope. Spike once told me it’s hard for Vampires to identify the tastiest snacks, when their prey are covered with unnecessary rubbish.”

She wasn’t surprised when Bruce broke down in heaving guffaws, and seeing him so carefree, she joined in the merriment of the moment. 

“That’s _too_ funny.” He said at last, and Faith nodded in agreement. 

“Not as funny as Angel turning into a puppet, but hey? Can’t win them all.”

Faith went to grab the food out of the basket, and eventually noticed that Bruce wasn’t helping. When she glanced over at him, he was staring at her agape in amused horror. 

“You okay?”

“ _Puppet_?”

“Oh, yeah! Long story, but Angel was magically changed into a puppet for about a week? I don’t know all the particulars, but Spike said it was the best week of his life.”

The wide grin that broke free on Bruce’s face was rather cute. 

“The more I learn about your background, and that of your friends, the more it amazes me.”

“I know, sometimes I have to remind myself that there’s a normal life to be had, you know? But then? I remember that my life has never been normal.”

“I’d have to second that sentiment.”

Faith poured them both some juice and plated the homemade fried chicken that Alfred had prepared. She placed some fresh grapes, as well as some carrot sticks on Bruce’s plate and then dished up some for herself. 

“Are you okay with that, really?”

Taking the plate that Faith had made for him, Bruce set it down in front of him and was covering his lap with a cloth napkin, when Faith finished her question. He gazed up at her and replied with the upmost sincerity, “Gorgeous? That night the Joker took you, I realized a few very important things. First off, was the fact that I was completely in love with you and the thought of losing you and our son? It would’ve _destroyed_ me. Second, was that normal was something that might work for others, but for you and me? Not so much. It’s because what we have is so much better than most people will ever know. Lastly, was that I would do whatever I could to make sure that you knew that day and everyday following, that you’re it for me. Whatever life throws at us? I know we can handle it as long as we’re together. We are stronger, together. There’s nothing we can’t accomplish, no foe we can’t take down, and no evil that will _ever_ tear us apart.”

Feeling tears welling in her eyes, Faith sniffled emotively, as she beamed at her future husband. 

“I feel that way too.”

“Good.” Bruce reached for her cheek and tenderly wiped away a stray tear that had fallen. “Now eat. Our son needs sustenance and you, my Gorgeous Slayer, need to make sure that you gain enough weight.”

“You want me to get fat?”

Bruce chuckled and shook his head. “Something tells me that once you start showing, I might have a very difficult time keeping my hands to myself.”

“Oh _really_?”

“Oh, most definitely.” He winked in challenge. “Did I hear you agree to go to New York without me?”

“Maybe?”

“Roger will be going with you, then. But I will be taking you, and picking you up, agreed?”

“Really? You’re going to drive all the way to New York and back?”

“No, we are going to take the Wayne Jet to La Guardia and from there, I will be dropping you off at Eleanor’s.”

“Bruce? I can’t just invite myself!”

“You’re adorable.” He smirked. “I would imagine that you will be getting a phone call before the end of the day from one of the Waldorf’s, inviting you to stay.”

“What about Violet and Rona? I can’t put that on someone I barely know?”

Bruce sat back and sighed, before he took out his phone and dialed a number. The recipient picked up on the second ring. 

“What do you _want_ , Wayne?”

“Hello to you too, Bass.”

Faith’s nose scrunched as she shook her head emphatically, but Bruce lifted a finger and shushed her.

“I need a favor.”

“Oh?” Faith could hear the smug tone of Bart’s voice over the line. “And just _why_ would I help you?”

“Because what I’m about to ask isn’t just for me, it’s for my fiancée.”

There was a brief pause and then a heavy sigh, before Bart replied with, “What do you need?”

“Faith is coming to New York next weekend to go shopping with Blair. She’s bringing Violet and Rona, and I don’t want to impose on Eleanor nor Lily, even though I know they’d be fine with it. However, Faith is worried that because they aren’t aware of her entire background, it might be a difficult situation to manage properly.”

There was another heartbeat of silence, before Bart spoke up. 

“You want them to stay at my Hotel?”

“If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Will you be visiting as well?”

“Apparently, Blair feels I would be a hindrance to her plans.”

“As if that’d stop you?”

Bruce chuckled before he replied succinctly, “Too right, however? I think it would be a good idea for Faith to have some time making connections without me hovering.”

“How _magnanimous_ of you.”

“I have my moments.” Bruce quipped mockingly. “So you’ll do it?”

“Of course. I’m happy to accommodate Faith in _whatever_ way she requires.”

Faith snorted, and mumbled lowly, “In your dreams, Bass.”

The man in question huffed out a laugh, as he’d heard Faith’s comment.

“You’re a lucky man, Wayne.”

“You don’t need to tell me that, Bart—as I’m well aware of how blessed I am. I’m also entrusting my future wife into your care, as well as my unborn child.”

Faith took a sip of her juice as she waited for Bart’s reply, which surprisingly, was rather thoughtful and understanding. 

“Trust me, Bruce—that’s not something I would ever take lightly. I might be a prick most days, but I would give anything to have Evelyn back, if only for Chuck’s sake.”

“I know, Bart.”

“I’ll see you next weekend, Wayne. Give Faith my best.”

“Of course.”

The call disconnected, and Bruce set his phone down next to him with a contemplative look on his face. 

“Did you know Evelyn Bass?”

“Cursorily,” Bruce admitted with a soft sigh. “Evelyn inherited her Father’s investment company, GTC Global when he passed. She merged it with Bass Incorporated, hence why Bart’s net wealth is so much more than mine. She and Bart, from what I do recall, tried for years to get pregnant with an heir, and Evelyn’s health had always been a fragile thing. She died in childbirth.”

“I do remember Bart saying something at dinner in New York about his wife never holding Chuck.”

“No. The doctors had warned her apparently, that a pregnancy would be difficult. I don’t know for sure, but I think she’d had two miscarriages before Chuck.”

“That’s so sad. Bart has never remarried?”

“He did, briefly. Her name was Misty, and she was affectionately referred to as Bart’s midlife crisis. He had a firm prenup, and they were only married for a few years.”

“What happened to her?”

“Don’t know. After their divorce, she took her settlement and disappeared. Bart gave her five million and a one way ticket out of New York.”

“Wow! Did she cheat on him?”

Bruce laid back on the blanket, as he grinned and nodded. “With Bart’s best friend. Thorpe? I think that was his name? Anyway, I do know that Bart went all corporate raider and destroyed the man.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Right before I disappeared? So maybe ten years ago, give or take?”

How old is Bart?”

“He’s twelve years my senior.”

“When’s your birthday? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”

“October 23.”

“Really? How old will you be?”

“Thirty three.” He smiled softly and then said simply, “Your birthday is December 14th and you’ll be twenty seven.”

“How?”

“Well, I did have you investigated as you know, but I remember you telling Vladim back in Zurich, that you were twenty six.”

“Ah, that’s right, I did.” Faith hummed and then asked curiously, “How long are we going to take for our honeymoon?”

Rolling over, Bruce cocked his head and queried seriously, “How long would you like to take?”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking about having Rona and Violet stay in the apartment and watch Baba and Yaga. I hate to leave them for too long.”

“Spoken like a true mother already.”

“What?” Faith groused out petulantly, “It’s not fair they can’t travel with us.”

“I know, but where I plan to take you for our Honeymoon, dogs aren’t really allowed.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you taking me, Krasivyy?”

“I’d thought, Gorgeous—it was going to be a surprise?”

Faith crawled over and straddled his lap, glaring down at him in warning. “Don’t like surprises all that much so tell me, please?”

Bruce huffed, but capitulated as he could see this was important to Faith. 

“Buenos Aires.”

“What?”

“Argentina.”

“I know where it’s at, Bruce. Really?”

“Yep. You’d said you wanted something sultry and sexy and trust me...you’ll love it there. It’s called the Paris of South America.”

“Can I wear a bikini?”

“Yes. I’m having the Wayne Yacht sent to Tahiti as we speak. It should arrive a week before we do.”

“You have a yacht, seriously?”

“I bought it two weeks ago.”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you upset?”

Faith flopped down on the blanket and stared into the sky, her face scrunched up in what Bruce was realizing was her exasperated expression. He moved his body, so he was now hovering over his fiancée, gently cupping her cheeks and turning her head so he could see her expression fully. 

“Would you like to know the name of the yacht?”

“What?”

“Gorgeous.”

Faith’s face broke out into a beaming smile. “ _Really_?”

“Really. We will be staying at the Four Seasons, but we will also be doing a bit of sailing too. I’ve hired a security detail who will be doubling as our sailing crew. Six men, all highly trained.”

“You really think that’s necessary?”

“Yes. I won’t take any chances with your safety, and this will be our first trip internationally, so I’m expecting there will be some interest once they discover where we’re at.”

“Joy.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“I know.” Faith sighed. “Were you home schooled?”

Bruce blanched at the unexpected segue, but nodded once. “Yes, until high school. But how did you know that?”

“Lucky guess.” Faith admitted sheepishly. “Will we have to home school Damian?”

“Most likely.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“You don’t agree?”

“Yes and no. I’ve been thinking that I’d like to see if Willow might be interested in teaching him.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She’s very smart with computers, and research. Plus I think it might be a good idea that he gets some training in magics. Something tells me he might have an affinity for it.”

“You think?”

“Maybe? Call it mother’s intuition, but yeah.”

Bruce pulled Faith into his body and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder, snuggling her into his side firmly. “That’s...”

“I know.”

They were quiet as they processed the possibilities, but finally Bruce asked, “So, kids?”

“Mmhmm?”

“How many?”

Faith didn’t reply for several moments, before she spoke up hesitantly, “I don’t know. I was hoping that the Powers that Be, would give me some idea.”

“If it was up to you?”

“I would like Damian to have at least one sibling. I don’t want him to be in this big house all alone with just us and Alfred for company.”

“Fair enough.”

Lifting her head up, Faith glanced down into bright hazel eyes that were watching her carefully. 

“How did we go from not wanting kids, to discussing this?”

Bruce lifted his hand and carded it through Faith’s hair, smiling softly when she closed her eyes in bliss at his touch. 

“I think we were in denial.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Bruce bantered back saucily, “Either that, or I was just short-sighted.”

“In what way?”

“ _In every way._ ” Bruce responded seriously. “You’ve admitted to feeling a bit disappointed when we’d discussed our feelings on children initially, and to be honest, that conversation had left me feeling unsettled as well. I didn’t immediately realize why, at that time—it was only later, that I was able to finally admit why I’d felt that way.”

“Because?”

“Because—I didn’t want to admit to myself that perhaps I didn’t deserve to be a Father—or more to the point? That I wouldn’t know how to be a good Father.”

“There’s no rule book, Krasivyy. No map, where X marks the spot. I do think looking back on it that I was disappointed, because on some level? My Slayer senses already knew what I wasn’t ready to consciously, admit to myself fully.”

“And now?”

“For the first time in a very long time, I’m hopeful and excited for the future.”

“Me too, Gorgeous...me too.”


	61. Cookie Dough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy returns to Gotham and has a frank conversation with John about their future.

Buffy had returned to Gotham that same evening, bag in hand as she walked through the airport terminal. She had enjoyed the past several days in Malibu, and it had been fun getting Zac settled into his new digs. He was a good kid, with a wicked sense of humor. But there were times, when Buffy would catch him drifting, his expression closing off—and she had to wonder what he was thinking about. 

John hadn’t mentioned yet, about how he was going to deal with those who had helped Miranda go after Zac—

—not to mention the two young men responsible for his assault. 

And Zac didn’t seem inclined to make a decision in regards to using the proof they’d found either. 

Something told Buffy that John would do whatever he had to do, in order to spare Zac the humiliation of a trial. 

When she made her way out of the terminal and outside to the arrival pick up area, John was waiting by his Porsche. His face broke out in a wide pleased grin, when he spotted her walking towards him. 

“Hey, sexy!”

Buffy ran over and jumped into his arms, kissing him in greeting—which he returned without hesitation. 

“Hi.” She chirped, as she pulled her mouth away from his. “How’s it going?”

“Much better, now that you’re home.” 

He set Buffy down and took her duffel bag—placing it into the smaller back seat area, then helping her into the passenger side. Closing the door, he rounded the car—got in, started the engine, and took off back towards Gotham proper. 

“What have you been doing while I was in California?”

“Business.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and snarked out, “Yeah, I’d already guessed that much.”

He smirked. “I’ve been getting my ducks in a row, Sexy. Now that I’ve acquired a third of Tate Conglomerate, I’ve decided to restructure my Board of Directors a bit.”

“How?”

“Both of the men involved in Zac’s assault, Burns and Hollyweather, currently have a six percent interest in my company. I own the largest shares at just over 50 percent. However, company bylaws require me to have a three-quarters majority to remove any board member, and only if I can show misconduct.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Well? I had a meeting with Nelson from Gentex two days ago. I explained, that I currently have the formula for the antidote we’ve been trying to create—and by patenting it, we would see an increase of revenue for his company by twenty percent. I also told him that he would need to be at my next board of directors meeting, along with all those who have a controlling interest in his company. Bart and myself, have already laid the groundwork for a hostile takeover of Gentex. We’ve used the dummy accounts that Wayne set up, and have been purchasing stock in the company. As of this morning, we have a ten percent stake.”

“You’re going to make a tender offer?”

John pulled up to a red light, and turned his head in shock. “How do you _know_ about that?”

“So I’m right?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a _sneak_. He’s going to share with his board before the meeting that you have the goods—which is going to make them all chomping at the bit at the idea of all that additional potential money. What are you going to do? Hold the formula hostage, or threaten to give it to a rival competitor if you don’t get the Gentex board onside?”

“Damn!” John chuckled in admiration, as the light turned green. “Maybe you need to come and work for me, Sweetness?”

“Not likely,” Buffy quipped and then frowned heavily, “ what about Cooper and that Scott kid? If Zac doesn’t want to press charges, how are you going to make them pay for what they did to him?”

“Cooper will pay, because I’m going to bankrupt daddy, and then I’m going to make sure he never plays football again. As for Scott, apparently—Zac wasn’t the first person he’d roofied and raped.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” John scowled angrily, “the files you gave me from before you went back to London? I spoke with Harvey Dent and he, along with Commissioner Gordon, are going to set up a sting operation to get that little fucker. Hopefully, the day after my board meeting, this will be done.”

“It’s not going to fall back on Zac, is it?”

“No, Sweetness. I’ve done everything I can to make sure he’s no where near this when it goes down. If, he chooses to come forward when that shit goes to trial, then that’s his choice, but something tells me he won’t. And I can’t say I blame him.”

“Me neither.” Buffy sighed. “He’s really happy in his new place. Me and Faith were thinking that when Zac comes back home for the wedding? We might introduce him to Violet.”

John pondered that idea, as he pulled into the garage of his office building—the work on his brownstone wouldn’t be completed for another two weeks. “It might not be a bad idea.” He said once they were in the elevator. “Assuming he decides to come home for the wedding.”

“Oh, he’s coming alright,” Buffy clarified, “the amount of political contacts alone, might help him get a plum job once he’s done with school next year.”

“Huh?” John mused, escorting his girlfriend out of his elevator and down the hallway to his bedroom. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Nope.”

John set Buffy’s bag on his couch, and then pulled her into his embrace as he kissed her passionately. It didn’t take long for either one of them to undress the other, and then Buffy found herself on her back—on John’s bed with his head buried between her thighs. 

It was several hours later before she came up for air—

But she wasn’t complaining. 

Around three in the morning, Buffy found herself awake. She crawled out of John’s bed, careful not to arouse him, and reached for his dress shirt—before heading into the living room, with her cell phone. 

Flipping it open, she immediately dialed Dawn’s number. 

“Hey, Buffy.”

“Hi, Dawnie. How are you?”

“I’m okay. Just finishing up breakfast. Are you back in Gotham yet?”

“Yes, got in last night.”

“How’s your new boy toy?”

Buffy giggled at the ridiculous moniker. Faith had quipped at one point that she’d called Bruce that, and Dawn had found it utterly hilarious...

...hence, she’d decided to adopt it when referring to John.

“He’s asleep.”

“Wore him out, huh?”

“You’re the worst.”

“Nah, I just know you better than anyone. You really like him, don’t you?”

Gazing out the window of John’s apartment, Buffy bit the side of her lip and chewed on it for a few seconds before replying with, “Yeah. I suppose I do.”

“Are you coming home?”

“I don’t know, Dawnie. I haven’t gotten that far in my plans.”

“Well, what does he want?”

“Dunno, it’s not something we’ve really discussed in depth,” She paused and then sighed, “if you need me, I guess I could come back to London.”

“ _Like hell you will!”_ A deep voice rumbled out lowly, and Buffy turned around to see John standing naked, at the end of the hallway, arms folded over his chest and staring angrily at her.

“I’ve got to go, Dawn.”

“Okay, but do me a favor?”

“Which is?”

“Be selfish for _once_. Follow your heart and try to be happy. No excuses, okay?”

“Okay. Love you kiddo.”

“Love you too, Buffy. Talk to you in a few days.”

Clicking her phone shut, Buffy stood there and glared at her...

... _whatever he was._..

“I didn’t realize you were awake.”

Buffy watched warily as John stalked into the room, stopping only when he was about a foot from her. His blue eyes were blistering with raw emotion, and his jaw was clenched in ire. 

“Was that Dawn?”

“Yes.”

“Is she _alright_?”

“Yes.”

John nodded, averting his gaze for a moment before it settled once again on her, the intensity overwhelming. 

“Are you going to disappear on me again?”

“John...”

“ _Answer_ the question.”

“Wow! Bossy much?”

“I think I deserve an answer, Sweetness...and in case I haven’t made myself clear? I was hoping you’d stay here in Gotham with me. You did promise me once this thing with Miranda was done, we would go public. Are you having second thoughts?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what is it?”

Shaking her head, Buffy took John’s hand and led him back to the bedroom. As much as she adored looking at his glorious physique...

It would probably be a good idea, to have this conversation with him covered up. 

She could feel his tension, anger and hurt. It was if he was bracing himself for the inevitable let down he was expecting to come. 

Once they were back in bed, Buffy turned and faced him head on. 

“Look, I’m not going to deny that I have no clue how to do this. I’m the first to admit, that I suck at relationships. I know I’d promised we’d go public, and there is a part of me that wants to very much...”

“And the other part?”

“Is both scared and worried about what that could mean if someone ever discovered my alternate identity in a way that might put either you or Zac in danger. My sister told me to be selfish for once, and while I appreciate her support, and the sentiment, I’m not sure what that looks like.”

“Well,” John leant forward and took her hand within his, “what do you want it to look like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sweetness, haven’t you ever wondered what your happily ever after might look like?”

“Maybe?” She shrugged helplessly. “Maybe at one time, long ago I’d thought about it. Angel did ask me that question once, right before the battle with the First Evil.”

“And what did you tell him.”

“That I’m _cookie dough_.”

“Huh?”

Buffy giggled at how perplexed John appeared at that moment. 

“During that time, when everything was so insane, I’d realized a few things about myself. One was, I’d always figured there was something wrong with me. Because I couldn’t make any of my former relationships work. Angel asked if it was because of my calling, but truthfully, that wasn’t all of it.”

“And where does the cookie dough analogy fit in?”

“Well, at that time back in Sunnydale, I wasn’t finished baking yet. I’d figured if I made it through the battle with the First, and maybe after the next thing, and then the next thing—I’d wake up one day, and I’d be cookies. I’d finally be done baking.”

John cracked a wide grin, as he shook his head at his Slayer. 

_She was so fucking adorable!_

“And have you finished baking yet?”

“How do you know when that happens?” She asked seriously. “How does anyone know when they’re really done?”

John tilted his head back and pondered that question seriously. It was a really good question, and one he’d never thought to ask, much less answer for himself. 

“I don’t know, Sweetness. I guess, it comes down to whether or not, you want to be done. You’re Buffy Summers, kick ass Vampire Slayer—but is that all you want to be? Or, is that all you’ve allowed yourself to be?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted hesitantly, “I guess if I’m being completely honest with myself, it’s all I’ve ever really known. It’s given me a purpose, and a life...”

“A real life, or a half-life?”

“Both?” She shrugged. “I have my sister, Willow, Giles, Xander and even Faith to an extent...but, I’ve always felt separate from them. Being the Chosen One has meant being alone in so many ways. As much as I’m grateful for the love and support of my family and friends, there’s still a huge part of being a Slayer, that separates you from those you care about.”

“Why?”

“Because when it comes down to it? If it becomes a choice between my life and saving the world?”

“You’d die again in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t want to,” she whispered emotively, “God only knows, I’ve faced death more times than I can count. I’m not the only Slayer out there anymore, but I’m still the Chosen One, John.”

“Sweetness, you need to try and remember that not everything needs to be about just you.” When Buffy bristled, John just pulled her into his lap and cupped her face gently. “Maybe? You should try and look at it from a different viewpoint.”

“And that’d be?”

“Well, the Powers have historically, from what I’ve learned about your calling, only ever allowed one Slayer to be called at a time, right?”

“Yes.”

“But you died, and were allowed to come back—more than once. You’ve shared this calling for years, Sweetness. Doesn’t that tell you that maybe, the Powers are giving you a _choice_?”

“To what? Hang up Mr. Pointy, and call it good?”

“No, the choice to _be cookies_.”

Buffy quirked a smile at how cute John could be, even when he was making a valid argument.

“You’ve likely assumed being done, meant being dead—but, that’s not the only choice anymore. You’re not the _only_ chosen one, anymore. I think a part of you keeps fighting, because the thought of all those young girls out there, fighting the good fight and possibly dying—makes you feel a huge measure of guilt. You and Faith made the choice to share your powers, and even so? Some of those girls in Sunnydale died fighting the First Evil. But, instead of fighting in solitude, like Kendra did? You’ve given them all a chance to fight together. To be a family, in a different way. For some—like Faith, Violet and Rona? I suspect it’s all they’ve ever truly known. You however, can still be a general, and have a life. You’re not just a soldier anymore, Sweetness. That’s not the role you’re destined to play. The Powers, they’ve allowed you to make the choice to share your powers, because they knew that there would be no one better suited to lead than you.”

“You really think that?”

“I do. But what kind of leader do you want to be, Buffy? What kind of example do you want to set? Do you really want all those young girls to feel the sting of hopeless isolation that you’ve felt and even Faith has felt—or do you want them to have real hope for a future filled with endless possibilities and love. Are you going to force those young girls to be cookie dough _forever_? Or will you show them through your example, that whenever they’re ready? They can be cookies, and it’ll be okay.”

Buffy sat back floored, as she stared at John in wonder. 

Was she truly sending that message to the junior brigade?

“I’ve never even considered any of that.”

“I’d figured as much, which just goes to show how dedicated you are. Sweetness, you have a right to a future, and if you’re willing? I want to be an integral part of that plan, in whatever way you’ll allow me to be. Selfishly, I’d like to think we could make this a permanent thing, but I’d understand if you’re not quite ready for that yet.”

“What do you mean by permanent?”

“You, here—living with me. Going out together, allowing me to proudly show you to the rest of the world, as _mine_. To go to sleep each night with you, making love to you and waking up each morning with each other. Seeing the world, training together and perhaps in time, when we’re ready? Taking that final step of commitment.”

“Marriage?”

“Someday, _yeah_. I’m thirty-seven, and I’ve never once in all my life ever considered the possibility of marriage. Never even wanted to, until now. So that tells me, that you’re it for me. I know myself well enough to know, that I could search for the rest of my life, and never find anyone more perfect for me than you.”

Buffy felt her eyes misting with unshed tears, as she stared at John in wonder. 

“It’s so fast.” She whispered out in disbelief. 

“Love is no respecter of age or practicality,” John quipped smugly, “the heart wants, what it wants.”

“And what does your heart want?”

“ _You_.” His single word reply was filled with so much sincerity, Buffy’s breath hitched. 

“Are you telling me you’re in love with me?”

John chuckled deeply. “The word ‘ _love_ ’ I think, gets thrown around far too casually. And whilst I can appreciate the sentiment, what I feel for you is not something that can be quantified by a simple word. But if I had to pick one?”

Buffy nodded, her expression alight with eager curiosity.

“I **cherish** you.”

Her lower lip quivered at the sentiment, and Buffy tilted her head down and swallowed with heavy emotion. John watched her process his declaration, and it was a few moments before she came back with...

“Are you sure, this is what you really want?”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Sweetness. Of all the things I’ve done, lived through and suffered—I know beyond a shadow of a doubt it brought me here to this moment with you. So with that being said, stay in Gotham? Be with me? Let me prove to you that you can be yummy, delicious, cookies—and it’ll be okay.”

She giggled endearingly, causing John to smirk in satisfaction. 

“Does that means you want to eat me?” She bantered teasingly.

He leant forward with a suggestive leer and wiggled his eyebrows for effect, stating, “It’s my absolute favorite thing to do, Sweetness. Shall I demonstrate?”

“Well, if you must.” 

For the rest of the night, John was more than happy to comply.


	62. New York, New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith returns to New York, this time with Violet and Rona.

For the first time since Faith’s heritage had been outed to the rabid vultures of the press and public, her face and that of her fiancé, were not the one’s on the front page of the Gotham Times come the Friday morning before she was set to leave for New York. Nope, the number one headline from TV to print, was the corporate takeover of Gentex Pharmaceuticals, and as an aside blurb—the arrest of Gotham University’s Football Star, Senior Scott Brenton, for attempted rape and illegal drug possession. 

John Daggett in one fell swoop, had removed two of his longest tenured board members, and taken down all the remaining players who had gone after his nephew. 

Bruce and Faith had matching smirks of satisfaction as they’d read the paper that morning. 

“He did _good_.” Faith quipped, while Bruce hummed and took a sip of his coffee. 

“He had help.”

“Bart?”

“Yes.”

“Are you upset he didn’t ask you to help?”

“No. I have no desire to go into business with Bart Bass. As much as I respect his acumen when it comes to financial markets, I’d rather not entangle Wayne Enterprises in any kind of merger. John needs to make sure that Bart doesn’t try to come after him at some point.”

“Would he do that?”

“Maybe.”

“Huh?” Faith blurted out softly, “I wonder if John knows that?”

“He does.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Didn’t need to, Gorgeous. John, as much as he annoys me most days, isn’t an idiot.”

“Was that an actual compliment?”

Bruce quirked an insolent eyebrow as he took another measured sip of his coffee, but didn’t elaborate or admit to doing any such thing.

“Wow! Petty much?”

Bruce just quirked a slight grin, but again, didn’t answer her.

“The Wayne Jet is on standby,” was all he offered, “Are you packed?”

“Yes.” She tilted her head at him curiously, “I’m assuming you’ll be staying in New York?”

“Why would you assume that?”

Lifting a mocking eyebrow herself, Faith waited for her fiancé to capitulate and clarify, which he did eventually. 

“Actually, I’ll be making a short trip to Boston.”

“Why?”

Bruce just smirked, but didn’t answer again, causing Faith to huff out in irritated amusement. 

“Secrets, already?”

“No,” he was quick to reassure, “I have some business there that I need to take care of.”

“Business, business? Or personal business?”

“Both.” He sighed, and then said in a slightly pleading tone, “I will tell you all about it when I see you on Sunday evening, okay?”

“Sure.”

Bruce didn’t miss the slight inflection of doubt in Faith’s voice, but he’d figured she’d be fine if what he was planning on doing, came to fruition. 

“I’ll miss you.” He admitted, and that caused her to smile softly in turn. 

“I’ll miss you too, Krasivyy.”

Several hours later, Bruce was dropping Faith off at the Palace, and leaving her in the care of Bart and Chuck Bass. 

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, Krasivyy. Don’t worry so much.” She smoothed his furrowed brow with a gentle touch, and reprimanded silently, “ _You’re much too pretty to fret.”_

His cocky smirk, filled her stomach with butterflies before he kissed her with intent. When he finally pulled back, he nodded to Bart and then moved to leave her...

...and if she hadn’t been certain of how much Bruce loved her, sensing his reluctance and fear at leaving her, even if it was for only two days? 

Filled her heart to bursting. 

“ _I love you_.” She told him silently, just as he reached the door to her hotel room. 

He turned and winked over his shoulder before disappearing completely, leaving her staring after him with a small smile on her face. 

“If I didn’t see it for myself, I don’t think I’d have ever believed it in a million years.” Bart drawled deeply. 

“And what exactly would that be, Bart?”

“Wayne.”

“Yes, well...” Faith shrugged nonplussed, “Bruce is a _complex_ man.”

“That he is.” Bart hummed out thoughtfully, before he chuckled to himself. “You remember my son, Chuck, yes?”

“Yes. How are you Mr. Bass?”

“I’m fine, Your Grace. Busy with school and business.”

“Oh? Are you at university too?”

“Columbia.” Chuck replied evenly. 

“I hear it’s a good school. Blair seems to be enjoying herself.”

Chuck nodded, but didn’t reply and Faith glanced at Bart, who was watching his son with a slight frown marring his face. 

“Bruce mentioned you’d be bringing guests with you?”

“Yes. They’ll be here later. Rona has been living here in New York for a while, and she wanted to show Violet her old stomping grounds. So I’d imagine they’ll be out playing tonight.”

Bart smirked wickedly. “I see, and you?”

Sighing softly, Faith grimaced unhappily. “Apparently, they get to have all the fun. I promised Bruce I would stay out of trouble this weekend, while he was gone. I don’t think he would be too happy if I were to go out without him.”

“No, I don’t imagine he would like that at all.”

“How’s the corporate raiding going?”

This caused Chuck to actually crack a grin, as he gazed over at his old man fondly. 

“It’s fine. John was actually, quite impressive and methodical in his take down of Gentex and Nelson. Not to mention his two board members. The men in question, never saw him coming.”

“Hmmm, good for him.” Faith then narrowed her gaze and lifted a finger in warning. “I like John, and he’s involved with Buffy, so I’m going to do you a solid, Bart.”

“Which is?”

“ _Play nice_. Don’t think about doing what we both know you’re tempted to do, to John. I’d hate to have to ruin you.”

The elder Bass threw back his head and laughed uproariously, causing his son to watch the scene before him in utter shock at his Father reacting in such a fashion. When grey eyes finally settled back onto her, Faith had to admit, the man was more like a shark. 

“Wayne is a lucky, son of a bitch.”

She smirked and replied, “Yes, and he _knows_ it, too.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Bart grinned, and then patted his son on the shoulder. “We will let you freshen up. Your guests will be by in an hour for tea at three in the Crystal Room downstairs.”

“Okay.” Faith nodded, before she asked hesitantly, “I need to get Bruce a wedding gift and a gift for his Birthday. You knew Thomas Wayne, yes?”

“A bit, why?”

“Well, Bruce is having the Manor redone as you know, and I wanted to see about getting a rendition of our family crests for one of the rooms. But I have no idea where to begin to find someone who might be able to do it justice.”

Bart was taken aback. 

“The Imperial Crest of the Romanov family?”

“No, there’s a secondary coat of arms crest, that I’d thought would be more appropriate for now.”

His eyebrows lifted in thought, as he considered the question with all due sincerity. 

“Do you have an image of it, other than what’s on the internet?”

“Yes, Yevgeny sent me one this past week. Hold on...”

Faith went into her suitcase and pulled out two old books from inside. She walked over and set them down on the table and smirked when both Bart and Chuck followed her eagerly. When she got to the page in the first book, she pointed at it. 

“This here, is the one I wanted to use to represent my family.” Faith then opened the second book that Alfred had given her, and pointed to the Wayne Family Crest. “This one, is Bruce’s family crest.”

“They actually are rather complimentary. Where in Wayne Manor will they be displayed?”

“The library.”

“Good choice.” Bart admitted with a nod. “Give me until tomorrow and let me see what I can figure out. This might take more than a month to finish?”

“The Manor will be opening in December. I wanted it done by then?”

“That might be more doable.”

“Good, thank you, Bart.” She grinned and then said playfully, “Have you ever been to Russia?”

“Yes. But not for a while, why?”

“Just wondering. We’re going in November. Vladim invited us for Unity Day. Big shindig, lots of stuffy distant family members will be coming, apparently.”

“Oh?”

“Yep.” Faith deadpanned. “I’m planning on inviting John and Buffy, as well as Lily, William, Eleanor and Cyrus. Lari’s boyfriend will be invited, so she will likely be joining him as his plus one, and Blair has even said she would come too. Perhaps, both you and Chuck should join us? Might be a good way to make new friends? Elizabeth and Phillip are coming along with their son—Charles and his two boys, William and Harry. I hear they’re both very eligible.”

Bart gazed over to his son, when he saw Chuck’s body stiffen at that innuendo, and he had to give Faith credit. She was a veritable sneak, and knew how to play the game well.

“We’d be honored to join you. Wouldn’t we, Son?”

“Of course, Father.”

“Cool!” Faith purred, “I’ll let Vlad know to send out the invites! Oh? Uhm, watches? Bruce likes watches.”

Bart grinned. “There’s a upscale boutique not too far from here? Shall I make an appointment?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Alfred told me that Martha had gotten Thomas a watch for their wedding day. I wanted to see if I could find one just like it?”

“Do you have the name?”

Faith took a piece of paper and wrote it down, from memory, and handed it to Bart.

“I will contact the owner and see if he can find one. This is a rarer watch, and as such, may not be possible to procure one, but I will see what I can do.”

“Oh? Okay. Thanks, Bart.”

“It’s not a problem, Faith.” He replied sincerely. “I’m sure if Thomas and Martha were here today, they’d be thrilled to welcome you into their family.”

Faith swallowed emotionally, as she gripped her stomach reflexively. Bart caught the movement, and his face softened noticeably. 

“How have you been feeling?”

“Oh, I’m okay—mostly. Still a bit nauseous first thing in the morning. We got to hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time last week, and it was amazing. I don’t think it really hit either one of us, you know? Now it all seems so real. In a little over six months, I’m going to be a mom.”

Bart chuckled again, his eyes alight with fondness and a hint of longing too. 

“Are you going to find out if you’re having a boy or a girl?”

“Oh, it’s a boy.”

“What?” His expression morphed into one of disbelief. “How can you possibly know that already?”

“Slayers have Prophetic dreams. Portents of the future. The Powers sent me a dream and let me know that I would be having a son. Damian Nicholas Thomas Wayne.”

“Shit.” Bart shook his head in awe, while Chuck just appeared equally flummoxed. “You’ve already listed him as your heir, haven’t you?”

“Yep. Set up a trust fund for the kid and everything?”

“How much?”

Faith lifted her knowing gaze, and Bart could see the amusement there as she tsked at him. “Nice try, Bass.”

He laughed again. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“I won’t today, but don’t push it, Bart.”

“Noted.” He quipped, “I took the liberty of having some fresh OJ for you in the fridge, as well as some sparking water and fresh fruit. The service knows to check both morning and evening to replenish it. There’s some French butter cookies that Alfred mentioned you’d liked, as well as some snacks for your guests. Room service is available to you 24hours a day. Just hit the red button on the phone. Wayne emailed me and asked me to have selection of bubble baths available for you, and Alfred sent me some of his ginger tea, which we have on hand.”

“Wow! You guys have thought of everything!”

“That’s our job. Now relax, and I will see you in in about forty minutes to escort you down to the Crystal Room.”

“Thanks, Bart. Oh, Rona likes apple fritters, any chance you could find me some?”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful, before he bowed humbly, or as close to it as he was capable before he and his son, left her alone. 

Unpacking her clothes, Faith sat at the edge of the bed in her room and stared out the window at the New York City skyline. Her mind drifted for a few moments as she wondered just what Bruce was getting up to on his own. He was more than capable of taking care of himself, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t worry about him. 

And for her? That was a first. 

Glancing down at her phone, she sighed. How had she gone from being a closed off, unemotional, absolute control needing woman—to this softer, more hopeful version of herself? It wasn’t too far off the mark to admit, that the more time she spent with Bruce, the more of her innate controlling tendencies were being tempered by the need to make him happy and put a smile on his face. Thinking back on when they’d first met in the elevator in her former apartment in Gotham, she’d been standoffish and bitchy, calling him out for what she’d perceived as a man, who was only doing the Batman thing, because he either had a death wish, or he had a sick idea on how to get his jollies off. It had never even occurred to her, that Bruce might’ve actually been sincere in his rationale of wanting to save Gotham from itself. 

That he had a depth to him, that was only mitigated publicly by his playboy persona. 

He was so complex. She hadn’t been lying to Bart about that. Bruce was probably, the most complex man she’d ever known. He was beyond intelligent, focused, determined, hard, demanding and stubborn. He was also sweet, thoughtful, loving, kind, brave and sexy as all fuck. 

There were times, she’d catch herself staring at him in awe and wonder just what she’d done right in her life to deserve to have Bruce Wayne in her heart and in her bed. Making love, fucking, role playing?

...it didn’t matter...

...because she simply couldn’t get enough of him. She craved him in ways she’d never imagined were possible. And it didn’t scare her so much anymore. 

If anything, she was proud that she was the woman who’d tamed Bruce Wayne. 

Who had gotten him to open up and want more for his life than being a lone vigilante with an ambiguous hope for his future. 

Standing up, she grabbed her cosmetics bag and took everything into her ensuite, undressing and getting ready for an afternoon with a group of women she’d have never given the time of day to, just three months ago. She would’ve assumed they were shallow, uncaring, empty-headed, and vain socialites. The latter part of being socialites might be true, but they were all surprisingly—smart, funny, bitchy and kind in their own ways. 

Of all of the new peopled she’d met recently, her favorite was most definitely Blair. The young woman was a force of nature, unapologetic in what she wanted and determined to see her vision through, no matter what.

Faith could respect that. 

It was clear that Blair loved Chuck, and he seemed to be equally smitten with her, but he was having a harder time admitting it to himself. 

Hence her plan...

Stepping out of her shower, Faith spritzed some of her drugstore perfume on and went to get dressed. Fifteen minutes later, there was a soft knock on her door. 

Opening it, she waved Bart inside as she went to grab her purse. He followed her to the edge of her bedroom, and smirked when she placed her usual silver knife in her bag. 

“Do you take that everywhere with you?”

“Yes.” Faith nodded. “If I hadn’t, I’d probably be dead right now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s how I was able to escape from the Joker during my kidnapping.”

Bart’s expression darkened as he inquired harshly, “Did you kill him?”

“No, his own bomb killed him. I just made sure he couldn’t escape from his own shitty plot when the ‘ _big boom_ ’ went off.”

Chuckling deeply, Bart nodded in satisfaction. 

“Good for you.”

“Thanks.”

“You look beautiful.”

Faith turned around and lifted a curious eyebrow. “Are you _flirting_ with me, Bart?”

“No, just stating facts. I’d rather not have Wayne come after me. Something tells me he is rather a possessive sort, and if you were mine, I’d be just as vigilant.”

“Hmm, I suppose I should say, thank you?”

“If you feel the need to.”

“Bruce told me a bit about your former wife?”

“Ah, Misty?”

“Yes.”

“No great loss.”

“No, I don’t imagine it was. Is she why you’ve never remarried?”

Bart held out his arm, causing Faith to smirk as she took with alacrity. He led her out of her room and into the private elevator before replying evenly, “Honestly? I’ve been more worried about Chuck these past few years. Getting him through high school, and trying to do my part. I’m not warm and fuzzy, but I do love my son. I want him to find the path that will work for him.”

“Blair?”

“Probably,” Bart admitted, “however, you seem to have some kind of idea in mind to stick a wrench in that plan?”

“Maybe. Blair loves Chuck, which you know—but...”

“Ah yes! With my son, there is usually one of those.”

The elevator door opened, and several onlookers were openly staring at them as they made their way to the Crystal Room. When they arrived, Bart nodded to her and left, as soon as Lily made her way over. 

“My, Dear? How are you?”

“Hi, Lily! I’m fine.”

“Good, good. Let’s get you situated in our private room. There’s many vultures out and about today. How’s Bruce?”

“He’s perfect. He’s on his way to Boston.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Apparently, Blair put the nix on men this weekend. So Bruce had to make other plans.”

Lily smiled widely as they walked arm in arm past many of the patrons, who were trying their level best not to gawk...

...and doing a piss poor job at it. 

When they finally got to the private room, it was full.

Lari, Blair, Eleanor, Serena, Eden (which almost had Faith rolling her eyes in feigned disgust), Anne Archibald, and two other women that Faith didn’t know. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited my Mother and Sister today, as they were in town visiting.”

“Not a problem.” Faith was then introduced to Cece and Carol, respectively, and it made a bit more sense why Eden was there, as it would’ve been rude not to include her, if her entire family was present. 

Once they were all situated—tea was served. 

“How are you feeling, Dear?” Lily was sitting to her left and Blair to her right. 

“I’m doing alright. The morning sickness comes and goes.”

“How far along are you, Your Grace?” Cece asked politely. 

“Nearing the end of the First trimester.”

“Bruce must be thrilled.”

“He really is.” Faith smiled happily. “Hovers, but that’s just his way.”

They all laughed at that. 

“How’s the construction at the Manor going?” Blair asked as she pointed to a few things, and Faith nodded. 

“Should be done by December. He’s hired a secondary crew to come in and get it finished before the holidays, weather permitting. It’s quite the place.”

“Martha adored it there, did all the decorating herself.”

“Really?” Faith queried, “I’m sure she had great ideas.”

“She was an interior decorator before she met Thomas.”

“Oh? That’s interesting.”

“Bruce didn’t mention it?” Eleanor asked softly, and Faith shook her head. 

“No, he’s just getting to the point where he’s becoming more comfortable talking about the past. He took me to Wayne Manor last week, and we walked around the property and he talked about his mom and dad. I get the impression it’s still hard for him, but he’s really trying to be better and I’m not pushing him.”

Lily nodded and patted her hand with sympathy. “Bruce has always been very private.”

“Yes.” Faith mimicked the gesture. 

“Have you decided on a honeymoon, yet?” Lari asked, and Faith hummed in the affirmative. 

“I told Bruce, that I wanted to go someplace sultry and fun. He’s taking me to Buenos Aires.”

There were several nods and oohs, before Eden asked, “Is it safe?”

Faith turned her weighted gaze on the woman, but didn’t feel much of anything from her, as she queried, “Safe, because I’m pregnant?”

“Yes.” Eden replied, ignoring her mother’s stern expression. 

“I’ve been fully vaccinated for several years. My employer required it for travel.”

“Ah.” Lily tutted. “Are you still working for them?”

“Mostly consulting right now. I can’t go back out into the field, as much as I’d like to.”

“Might I ask, just what kind of work you did?” Anne Archibald piped in, and Faith could see and feel the curious stares from everyone. 

“The particulars are classified, but I can tell you that I worked for a special operator division within my agency.”

All the women were taken aback, except for Blair who had figured out, that Bruce was Batman and Faith was Catwoman. 

“Was it dangerous?” Carol, Lily’s sister asked and Faith smirked and then shrugged. 

“I suppose some days were worse than others, but it’s all I’ve ever known.”

“How old were you when you started your training?”

“Sixteen.”

There was a measure of shock around the table, expect for Lily, Blair and Lari—who had heard Faith’s admission at her party weeks ago and seen an example of how formidable she was first hand. 

“How extraordinary.” Cece mumbled. 

“Not really,” Faith replied evenly, “I mean, it might seem intriguing, but it’s a _calling_. Not so much a choice. There are people out there who can’t fight for themselves, and that’s what I do. I try and protect those who can’t protect themselves. I never saw my life turning out like this, and I suppose I was alright with that at one time, but now? I have new priorities, and I’ve had to make peace with that. I have a new family to consider, too. At some point, I know they’re going to look to me to try and fix what’s been broken, and I’m not sure how that looks or how I’m going to make it better for them. My Aunt Zarina especially—she’s waited so long for this, and I don’t want to let her down.” 

The table was silent for a bit, until Eleanor spoke up. “It’s a big responsibility, but I think you’ve had a good foundation, from what Blair has shared. You’re a fighter, Faith. That’s what you’re going to have to be to make whatever vision you see for the Romanov’s come to fruition. You’ve been welcomed home, and that’s a good place to start, yes?”

“It is. Zarina is thrilled to be returning to Russia. It’s all she wants to talk about when we speak on the phone.”

“She’s quite a character.” Lily replied and Faith nodded. 

“She really is. I haven’t spoken to any of my Great Aunt Olga’s family members yet.”

“Olga’s great-grandson lives near me.” Cece offered. “He’s an artist.”

“Really?”

“Yes. His name is Sergei.”

“Roger, my assistant, mentioned him. I know that his parents have passed, and he has two siblings: Aleksander and Maria.”

“Their Mother, Xenia—passed last year.”

“Many of the family names get reused, don’t they?” Carol pointed out, and Faith nodded. 

“My given middle name is Nicolette, but my formal name is Nickolayevna.”

“So your formal title?”

“Grand Duchess Nickolayevna,” Faith responded softly, “Vladim calls me Nickolayevna.”

“How is your relationship with him?” Eleanor queried, “Cyrus met him once, a few years back on business. He’s quite austere and difficult, from what he’d shared.”

“He seems to like me, but maybe it’s because I threatened him.”

“Excuse me?” Blair snickered. “You threatened the Premier of Russia?”

“Well, yeah.” Faith deadpanned. “I told him if he was going to come after me? To make sure the first time _counted_ , or else all bets would be off. He was impressed.”

All the women roared with laughter, and even Eden was impressed with how real Faith seemed to be. She glanced over at Lari, who gave her an ‘ _I told you so’_ look.

“You’re trouble.” Blair snarked, causing Faith to wink at her. 

“Takes one to know one. Oh? You’re still coming to Russia, right?”

 _“Of course_ ,” Blair’s reply was naughty, but she narrowed her gaze knowingly, “what are you planning in that warped mind of yours?”

“Blair!” Eleanor chastised, but Faith only laughed. 

“It’s fine, Eleanor. Blair and I have an understanding, _don’t we?”_

“Just tell me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“How am I supposed to prepare for the inevitable fall out, if you don’t prepare me ahead of time?”

“Nope, you’re much smarter than that. If I just give you the information, you’ll never respect me.”

The youngest Waldorf glared at Faith, before her eyes narrowed even more in sudden comprehension and then she smiled widely. 

“You didn’t, _really_?”

“Maybe.”

“Nice.”

“I thought so.”

“What are you two imps planning?” Lily admonished, trading pleased smirks with Eleanor, that Blair finally had someone just as capable to play with. 

“Well, Auntie?” Blair quipped saucily, “It would seem that my dear friend, Faith? Has decided to play matchmaker.”

“Oh?” Lily’s blue eyes gleamed with interest as she turned to Faith. “Might I inquire who the lucky man is?”

“My cousin is attending the gala with his wife, his son and grandson’s. It would seem that my cousin’s grandson’s have both recently broken up with their long time girlfriends. So? I’d thought it might be nice for both Blair and Serena to have proper escorts for the festivities while we’re there, and wouldn’t you know it? They both agreed!”

“Which cousin?” Serena asked quietly, and Faith grinned impishly. 

“Blair will be escorted by Prince William and if you’re okay with it, Serena? Prince Harry was most eager to make your formal acquaintance.”

Everyone just stared at Faith in shock, except for Blair—who was giggling like mad. 

“Chuck is going to be...”

“Beyond pissed. Serves the little jerk right, too. If this doesn’t get him to wake up and smell the coffee? Nothing will. And if he doesn’t? Who knows? Fancy being the future Queen of Great Britain?”

“Oh my gosh! You’re the _best_!” Blair crowed, while Serena grinned like mad. Even Lily was suitably impressed. 

“I didn’t know you could be quite so devious, my dear?”

“Eh, I do what I can.”

“I can see that.”

“It’s okay, right Lily?” Faith asked, suddenly worried. “I know that Serena mentioned she hasn’t been introduced...”

“Hush, my _dearest_ girl. I can think of no better way for my daughter to be introduced to European Society.”

“Good, because the festivities are going to last over four days. Vladim sent me a tentative itinerary. The final night, the gala will be hosted at the Hermitage—but there will be other activities too. He has a surprise for me, which I’m curious about.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’m nervous too.”

“Understandable. Where are you and Bruce staying?”

“Actually, Vladim indicated that he was taking care of the accommodations for all my guests. He said it was a surprise.”

“Oh? Well, that’s interesting.”

“Hopefully it’s not in Siberia somewhere.”

Another round of laughter followed, and the rest of tea time was spent chatting about the following day’s activities. 

When Faith finally returned to her suite, it was a bit after five, and she decided a short nap might be just what she needed. She was about to fall asleep when her phone rang. 

Glancing at the caller ID, she smiled as Bruce’s name lit up the screen. 

“Hi.”

“Hey, Gorgeous. What are you doing?”

“Just got back from having tea. I got to meet Lily’s mom and sister.”

“Ah. Cece is interesting. Carol is rather quiet.”

“Yeah, that was my thought too. Are you in Boston?”

“Yes.”

“Still not going to tell me what you’re up to?”

“Not yet.”

“Am I going to like it?”

“I think so.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets for a while longer.”

Chuckling in amusement, Bruce could just imagine Faith rolling her eyes right about now. 

“Miss you.”

“I miss you too, Krasivyy. It’s strange, being here in New York without you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” Faith purred throatily, “I mean, I’m going to have to take care of myself tonight and tomorrow night...where’s the fun in that?”

Faith smirked when she heard Bruce’s groan of frustration. “ _Not fair._ ”

“Sue me.”

“Just might. Maybe we need a new contract?”

“Oh? And just what would you put in a new contract, Krasivyy?”

“That you can’t make yourself come, Gorgeous—if I’m not there to watch it?”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Why?”

“Because what would happen if you had to go away on business for say, like a week? Do you really expect me to abstain from orgasms for an entire week?”

“You could always come with me?”

“And once Damian is born?”

“Then, too.”

“I don’t know?” She sighed, in faux distress. “Isn’t there some antiquated law somewhere that recommends abstaining from sex before marriage?”

“ **Not happening!** ” Bruce growled out in his Batman voice. “You’re already knocked up, Gorgeous. I’ve already defiled you most thoroughly, too. You have _no grounds_ for abstaining.”

“None, huh?”

“No. None.”

“Wow, bossy much?”

“Can you honestly tell me you’d be okay with no sex for an entire month?”

“Hell, no!” She cried out on an indignant snort. “I like riding your spectacular dick, way too much!”

Faith grinned as Bruce completely lost his shit, his deep rumbling laughter sounding over the phone—which caused her to return the sentiment in kind. 

“Fuck, I love you.” He stated firmly, after getting himself a bit more under control. 

“And I love you.”  
  
“What are you doing tonight?”

“No plans. I was thinking about taking a bubble bath in the huge tub, ordering room service and wait for Rona and Violet to get back from their Slayage.”

“They’ve gone out?”

“Yep. Rona lived here before she came to Gotham, and I got the sense that she wanted to show Vi the local scene. She’s been kinda off lately too.”

“Do you think they’ll be okay?”

“Five by five. Rona is very good. Probably on par with Kennedy, actually. Which is saying something, as that girl has a lot of aggression.”

“Well, enjoy your night. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“Alright. Sweet dreams.”

“Always, Gorgeous. I’ll dream of you.”

“Flatterer.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“I know. Ditto.”

Bruce huffed out a laugh and then signed off, leaving her feeling surprisingly bereft. 

As she stared at her phone, it was crystal clear in that moment that she missed Bruce more than she’d even realized.


	63. Bad Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a night out on the town, Faith and Buffy face an unexpected visitor.

The next day was filled with shopping. Rona and Violet had strolled in laughing around 2am, and Faith had fallen asleep after her bath around seven, woken up at one, and ordered room service—so by the time the kiddos had returned, the pizza had arrived. 

Which they’d all scarfed down in record time. 

Now her little hellions were chatting up Serena and Blair, and the four of them were getting along like a house on fire. 

“I should’ve kept you both back in Gotham.” Faith snarked, as they all sat together with Lari and Eden at an upscale outdoor bistro in Soho. 

“Come on, _Mom_?” Rona quipped, “You know you love us way too much to leave us with Buffy.”

“Maybe.”

“I like this dish, what is it again?” Violet asked with interest. 

“Caprese Salad.” Serena offered, kindly.

“It’s yummy.”

“I’d have to agree with that.” Faith agreed readily. “Are you two going back out tonight?”

Rona shrugged. “Dunno, Mom. There’s a club I’d thought we could check out?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Bungalow 8. It’s supposed to be pretty hip.”

“I’ve been there.” Eden commented with a nod. “I know the owner. If you want a private lounge, it wouldn’t be too difficult to get one for the evening?”

They all turned to Faith and she shrugged helplessly, wondering just what Bruce might think if he knew she was thinking about going to a club without him. 

Then her face morphed into a wicked smirk. 

“Whatever. If you guys wanted to go, I’d tag along.”

Both Violet and Rona clapped their hands together in glee, before Violet asked seriously. 

“Hey, this could be like your bachelorette party, _right_? I mean, it’s not like you’ve planned one yet?”

Faith groaned and shook her head, ignoring the excited looks being sent her way. 

“No, I hadn’t even given it a thought, Vi.”

“Well, we need to. I’m gonna call Buffy and get the girls here tonight. It’ll be fun!”

“Yeah, a _hoot_.” Faith griped out petulantly. 

“You love to dance,” Rona challenged, “so what’s the deal?”

“If we do this?” Faith prevaricated, “No press and no cameras.”

“That’s not an issue,” Eden reassured, “Amy, she’s the owner? She’d got a strict no picture policy in her club. I don’t know how she’s managed it, but I don’t think you can take a picture, even if you’d wanted to.”

“Really?” Faith perked up. 

“Mmhmm.” Eden smirked.

“Fine. Call B, see if she wants to come. I’m sure John would be more than happy to fly the junior brigade here with her.”

“Oh?” Lari grinned widely. “Is this Buffy, John’s new girlfriend?”

“Yes.” Faith winked. “And I’m thinking if John has his way? B will be living in Gotham permanently soon enough.”

“He’s that serious?”

“Oh, yes.” 

“Wow!” Lari sat back stunned. She didn’t think John would ever be the kind of man to settle down. Whomever this Buffy was, she must be something truly special to have captured John’s heart. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Make the phone calls, you little cretins.”

Violet did just that, and it was a bit after seven that same evening—past dinner, a bubble bath and an afternoon of shopping that Faith was standing in her hotel room, with a gaggle of her Slayer besties, getting ready for a night out in the Big Apple. 

Then her phone rang and she grimaced when Bruce’s number flashed on the screen. 

“Shit.”

“You’d better answer it!” Buffy’s mocking voice carried into the bathroom.

“Can it, B!”

Faith let it ring, until it stopped and she waited for it to go to voicemail...which it did after a minute. 

When she pressed #1 and held it to her ear, the rich, deep voice of her fiancé filtered over the line. 

**Gorgeous? Are you screening your phone calls?**

Faith winced...

**I’m going to assume you’re sleeping. I just wanted to check in. I love you and miss you and I will see you tomorrow.**

The line went dead, and Faith scrunched her face in the mirror before sighing in defeat. 

She couldn’t help but wonder just how much Bruce would be pissed at her for going out tonight, and not telling him beforehand?

Her fingers hovered over the texting keys and she quickly typed out a message, before she’d lost her nerve. 

_Hello, Krasivyy..._

The return message was nearly instant...

**Where are you?**

_My hotel room. Just got out of the shower..._

**Ah...how are you feeling?**

_Good..._

**Have you eaten dinner yet?**

_Yes..._

There was a brief pause and then her phone rang again, causing several snorts of laughter out in the living room...

She picked it up on the second ring. 

“Hi!” She chirped cheerfully, and there was a heartbeat of silence before Bruce’s stern voice caused her to wince in shame. 

“What’s going _on_ , Gorgeous?”

“Bruce...”

“Faith? What’s going on?”

“Well?” She cleared her throat awkwardly, and she could hear Bruce’s deep breaths over the phone, “We are heading out tonight.”

“ _We_?”

“Uhm, yeah? The girls thought it might be fun to go out dancing?”

Another heavy silence and when Bruce spoke again, Faith’s body shivered at the menacing tone. 

“ _A dance club?_ ”

“Yep.”

“Who’s going?”

“Everyone?” Faith squeaked. “Uhm, Vi thought it might be kinda cool to have, you know? A bachelorette shindig? So Buffy is here with the junior brigade, and Blair, Serena, Lari and Eden are going too.”

Another deep silence and then a growled out, “ ** _Where?”_**

“Uhm, Bungalow 8?”

“I see.” Bruce replied shortly. “Is that why you’re screening your phone calls?”

“Bruce...”

“Did you’d think I’d be upset?”

“Maybe?”

He groaned in frustration. “Are you going to be dancing?”

“That was the general idea?”

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

From the tone of his voice, Faith was fairly certain it wasn’t nothing...

“Is this going to be a problem?”

“I know you can take care of yourself, Gorgeous. That’s not the issue, nor the problem I’m having.”

“Then what is?”

“Have you _seen_ yourself out on a dance floor?”

“No—not in that way?”

“That’s what I’d thought.”

Another silence pervaded, and then Bruce said firmly, “I’m not going to stop you from going out and having fun, however? There are two caveats?”

“Which are?”

“You keep the girls around you? I don’t want to see any other men within two feet of you, and if I see another man touching you? _All bets are off, agreed?”_

“Fine. What’s the second thing?”

“I’ll see you _soon_.”

And the phone went dead. 

“ **Shit!”**

Buffy popped her head into the bathroom, her expression amused. 

“Apparently, John had the same request. Why is that, do you suppose?”

“He’s coming?”

“Yep. Apparently, when he was watching me at Cargo, he wasn’t too thrilled with all the attention I was attracting. Something about being a sexual aura magnet. _Who knew?”_

Faith grinned. “Bruce is on his way.”

“Shall we give them a good show?”

“I like the way you think. Did you bring the outfit I’d asked you to?”

“Yep. He’s going to _lose his shit,_ you do know that right?”

“Whatever. I had you bring it on a lark. I didn’t think I’d actually wear the damn thing but if he’s going to go all possessive caveman on me, then I’m going to give him a good reason to. Did Bart get you all your own rooms?”

“He did. Which was fairly nice of him.”

“Let me finish getting ready. Do we need a car service?”

“John has got it covered.”

“What a peach!”

Buffy giggled and left Faith to get ready. 

It was a little over two hours later, that everyone was ready to go. Faith grabbed a long leather duster jacket, that she’d picked up not too long ago, and it covered her outfit up perfectly. When she walked out of her bedroom, it was to the smiling faces of most of the junior brigade minus Colleen, Chao Ahn and Eve.

“We ready?”

“Yes!” They all cheered. 

Grabbing her bag, with her cell phone and credit card, Faith followed her group down to the lobby where sure enough, two limos were waiting, as was a smug John Daggett and a curious Bart Bass. 

“You’re going out, I see?”

“Yep!” Faith quipped. 

“Wayne know?”

“ _Yep_.”

“John has asked me to tag along, so he’s not the only pathetic stooge in the place. Seems to think his new girlfriend needs a bodyguard.” 

“Nah, he just wants to make sure no one gets handsy.”

Bart glanced over at the pretty blonde, who was smiling up at John Daggett, and the man’s expression was utterly smitten. 

“She’s pretty.”

“She’s _taken_.”

“Not my type.”

“Oh?”

“No. Misty was blonde and green eyed. I tend to stay away from blondes now, as a general rule.” Bart glanced at the other young Slayers, his gaze narrowing at the one who’d disappeared the last time he’d seen her.

“I see your friend Rona made it back in one piece?”

“Huh?” Faith hummed and then nodded. “Yeah, she’s been on a rampage lately. Nearly got herself skewered by a Polgara demon the other night.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s a seven foot reptilian humanoid demon that weighs about 300 pounds and has skewers that shoot out of its forearms.”

Bart blanched as he glanced back over to the very pretty black slayer, and he felt a sense of familiarity wash over him that he couldn’t explain.

“And she killed it?”

“She killed four of them.”

“ _Shit!”_ Bart hissed as Faith said, “We should get going.”

Their group was followed with obvious interest as they all made their way into the limousines and it was about thirty minutes later, when they pulled up to the back door of the club. 

“Private entrance?” Buffy queried, and John nodded. 

“Yes. VIP entrance. When Eden called and told Amy who was coming and what the event was for, she bent over backwards to accommodate.”

“That was nice of her.” Faith remarked. 

As they entered the club, they were immediately greeted by the Owner, Amy Sacco, who showed them to their private lounge where Blair, Serena, Eden and Lari were already waiting. 

“Hey!” Blair cheered, and then glowered at John and Bart. “Who invited _them_?”

“I did.” John sniped. “And Bart tagged along to make sure I’m not stuck here all alone in the estrogen ocean.”

Buffy smacked him in the chest reprovingly, causing John to chuckle deeply. 

“Ouch! Not _nice_ , Sweetness.”

“Behave.”

“I make no such promises.”

Lari watching the exchange closely, moved over to introduce herself. 

“Hi, John.”

“Hey, Lari.” He kissed her cheeks in greeting and then pulled Buffy forward proudly. “Lari, this is my girlfriend, Buffy Summers. _Sweetness_ , this is Clarissa Waldorf.”

“Hi!” Buffy waved, her expression bright and welcoming. “John has told me such great things about you, I feel as if we’re friends already.”

John smiled adoringly down at the diminutive blonde, and Lari could see the warmth and love radiating from his entire being. 

“Thank you!” Lari nodded happily. “I’d like that.”

“Cool!”

The servers came over and took their drink orders, and several bottles of tequila, champagne and sparkling water were offered too, as a gift from the management. Faith glanced around the club and noticed many people were staring at them eagerly. 

However, the second she took her jacket off...

The gobsmacked expressions on the faces of everyone made her feel pretty fucking _smug_...

“ _Holy shit!_ ” Bart whispered under his breath, but Faith, Buffy and John heard it. “Does Wayne know?”

John shrugged helplessly, and then gasped in astonishment when Buffy removed her coat and his eyes widened even further in shock. 

She had on a tight red leather miniskirt, a black silk halter top and three inched red leather knee high boots. 

“Fuck!”

He felt Bart’s hand on his shoulder, but John’s gaze narrowed in sudden understanding when he noticed Buffy’s shit-eating grin plastered on her pretty face. 

She then grabbed Faith, and the rest of the junior brigade immediately followed them to the dance floor. 

Blair, Lari, Eden and Serena just stood back stunned. 

“That girl is a _stone cold goddess.”_ Blair giggled, and the other three nodded in agreement. 

_Then_...

Faith stared to dance with Buffy, and both Bart and John just sat there staring, utterly gobsmacked. 

“Does Wayne _know_?” Bart croaked out helplessly.

John shook his head, as he couldn’t look away from the two women in the middle of the dance floor. Bart however, noticed that every single eye in the club was solely focused on the group of Slayers...

Separately, each held a raw power that was easily tangible and quite heady...

...however, _together_?

“They’re like a _force of nature._ ” Bart whispered in awe. “And you get to...”

John smirked, and nodded proudly. “Oh, yes.”

“And?”

“She’s a _tigress_.”

“Fuck.”

Three songs later, both men felt a menacing presence behind them, and they turned to see Wayne standing there in all his glory...his own aura literally sucking every women in the vicinity towards him, but his gaze was scope-locked on one woman only. 

“He’s a _lucky_ fuck.” Bart gritted out, and hazel eyes fell to him instantly, a lifted smirk ghosting over handsome features. 

“Gentlemen.” Bruce drawled, as he moved into the private area, with a polite nod to the security detail. 

“Wayne.” Bart snarked.

“Not surprised to see you here, Bass.”

“I did promise I’d look out for your fiancée, Wayne.”

From the heated stare Wayne was giving him, it let Bart know just what a hardship that surely wasn’t for the older man. 

“Is there _anything_ she can’t do?”

“ _No_.” Bruce bit out fondly, his gaze now focused solely back on his goddess, moving like fucking sin out in the center of the dance floor. His eyes perused around the perimeter, and he couldn’t help but notice several men desperately trying to work their way towards Faith and Buffy, but the junior slayers were having absolutely none of it. The tight circle around their mentors, wouldn’t be breached. 

And he smirked in satisfaction, deciding perhaps that he would simply enjoy himself and _watch_...

But then the crowd parted slightly, and Bruce’s nostrils flared at the outfit his fiancée was wearing...

_**Oh no she didn’t!!!** _

“Did you know she was going to be coming here, looking like that?” Bart taunted, as he’d noticed Wayne’s very visceral reaction once Faith came into full view of where they were sitting. 

However, the man in question’s expression morphed instantly into one, that was cool as a cucumber, as he took a measured sip of his scotch and sat back, one leg crossed over the knee of the other—and trying desperately to keep his erection from coming out and wanting to play. 

When he got her back to the hotel however?

...all bets would be off...

_As would that fucking outfit._

His lips quirked. Or perhaps? 

“Faith looks _extraordinary_ in whatever she chooses to wear.” Bruce offered at last. 

“That’s an understatement.” Bart grit out lowly, before his eyes fell to Rona, and his gaze narrowed in appreciation. 

“Who are they?”

“The girls?” Bruce asked, and Bart nodded. 

“The two nearest to Faith, are Violet and Rona, whom you’ve seen but haven’t met formally. Vi has the red hair. Next to Buffy is Kennedy. She is Willow’s partner. The other brunette is Amanda. The two blondes are Shannon and Nikki. Colleen, Eve and Chao Ahn are back visiting family, but will be returning to Gotham for the wedding.”

“How old were they when they were called?”

“Violet was the youngest at fifteen. She’s nineteen now. Rona is the oldest. She turned twenty three in February.”

“They were all teenagers when called?” Bart whispered out in disgust. “That’s barbaric.”

“Faith was sixteen. Buffy, fifteen. I don’t claim to understand it myself, Bass. It’s just the way it’s always been for thousands of years. These young women are as tough as they come. If you’d seen what they’ve had to face, you might have a bit more context.”

“And their families?”

“Violet and Rona’s family’s disowned them when they found out about their calling.”

John glowered at that admission, as did Bart. 

“The others, still have family ties. Which is a good thing.”

“Buffy wants to fix Zac up with Violet.”

“Oh?” Bruce smirked again. “And how do you feel about that, John?”

“I wasn’t sure at first, but I tend to think they’d get along well. Violet is sweet and kind.”

“She is.” Bruce agreed readily. “Faith adores her, as well as Rona. She feels a special connection with them, because they’re orphans, like she is.”

At that moment, some random guy tried to make a beeline straight for Faith—but Rona? Was having absolutely none of it. She gripped him by the arm and pushed him back, her finger in the guys face and a firm shake of her head letting him know he needed to back the fuck off. 

All three men chuckled deeply. 

“She’s quite formidable.” Bart commented. “Are they all that protective?”

“I think they’d all die for each other, but the younger one’s look to Faith and Buffy to lead. It’s very clear when you see them together in a room, how much the younger girls rely on them both to make the decisions and to take care of things. Buffy is more of a natural leader, while Faith, as much as she hates to admit it? Is more of the Mother hen.”

“Really?” Bart hummed, “I would’ve expected the opposite.”

“No,” John agreed readily, “Buffy has always had the mantle of the Chosen One on her shoulders. She’s died three times for the calling. Sacrificed herself time and again to save the world. Faith however, would die for any of the girls to protect them and keep them safe.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, taking another sip and then his lips quirked again, when deep brown eyes finally locked with his own, and a beaming smile broke out over stunning features. 

Faith lifted an eyebrow in challenge, but Bruce shook his head, his gaze raking down her body unabashedly...

...and then Faith’s voice spoke into his mind. 

“ _You enjoying the show?”_

He nodded and winked. 

“ _Are you going to tear this off me when we get back to the hotel?”_

He shook his head, and her grin widened even more, if possible. 

“ _You’re thinking about Oswald’s, aren’t you?”_

He nodded again, not noticing both Bart and John watching him closely. 

Faith just winked back, and continued on with her dancing. 

“She can speak to you telepathically?” John whispered out lowly, realization hitting him with stark clarity...

His words were just loud enough, that both Wayne and Bart could hear him. 

Bruce turned his head and the smuggest, smug look that John had ever witnessed, bloomed across Wayne’s handsome face. 

“Shit.” John shook his head. “ _How_?”

“My training in Southeast Asia, John. Much of it was mediations, and mind over matter. Hence, my mind is quite a bit more developed than most.”

“That’s impressive.” Bart admitted reluctantly, then his eyes widened in sudden comprehension. “Before you left her yesterday? She was speaking with you telepathically, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Damn. There’s really nothing she can’t do, is there?”

“No.” Bruce chuckled easily. “There really isn’t.”

“How was Boston?” John asked knowingly. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I spoke with the funeral home director as well as several city council members this morning, including the Mayor. They are willing, once the remains are released back to Faith, to offer her the option to have Anastasia interred in a private, gated area. The choice will be hers.”

“What do your think she’ll do?”

“I don’t know, but I wanted her to have the option either way.”

“That was rather generous of you, Wayne.” Bart commented thoughtfully, and Bruce shrugged. 

“It’s never an easy decision to decide to exhume the remains of a family member. In this case it was necessary, but Karl let me know that Anastasia’s remains will be released next week. Their was some legalities with the Russian government, as far as who had ownership once the remains were positively identified. Vladim decided magnanimously, to leave the decision to Faith. I think it’s a test, frankly.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” John parlayed darkly. 

“What do you think she’ll do?” Bart inquired, taking a sip of his own whiskey. 

“I think her first instinct would be to have Anastasia buried with family, the hard part is? Which family. If she chooses to have her interred in Boston, those in the Romanov family might take issue with it. If she takes her back to Russia, that might send a message she’s not ready to send.”

“Which is?”

“You’re not an idiot, Bart. What kind of message do you think it might send?”

Cocking his head indulgently, Bart just replied with, “Wayne? We both know that many factors would have to be in place for Faith to assume her rightful place back in Russia. The political structure would have to welcome it, there would have to be some kind of acknowledgement of her right of succession. Who would give that under the circumstances?”

“Those are all good questions, Bart.”

The older man’s gaze narrowed, at the easy demeanor of the man across from him, and he hissed out a stunted breath. 

“That’s not possible!”

“What’s not?” John asked in confusion, his gaze flitting from Bruce to Bart and back again. 

“How?” Bart demanded, before his face registered the truth. “Zarina?”

Bruce didn’t reply, nor give away any of what he was thinking or feeling, but he had to hand it to Bart Bass. The man was smarter than he looked. 

He averted his gaze to the dance floor again, and noticed that Faith, Buffy and their entourage were heading their way. He smirked as Faith sauntered over to him, her expression amused and he wasted no time pulling her into his lap. 

“You’re in trouble.” He whispered deeply into her ear, causing her smirk to widen.

 _“I thought you liked this outfit.”_ She bantered back, silently. 

“I do. I’d just rather not see every man in this club ogle you.”

“Liar,” she snarked back into his ear, “You love it. You get off on knowing just whom I belong to. Just who’s bed, I’ll be going back to tonight. Just who’s spectacular dick, is going to be fucking me so hard, that I’ll be screaming your name when I squirt all over you.”

Bruce gripped her hair and pulled her head back, his hazel eyes blistering with savage intensity.

“Is that what you _want_?” He whispered in a tone that was borderline threatening.

“What do you think, Krasivyy?”

His answering smile was totally sinful, and Faith had to admit...

...Bruce looked utterly edible when he let out his dark side to play...

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Sure.” She purred. “But I missed you more. How was Boston?”

“Fine. When we get back to the hotel, I’ll tell you all about it, deal?”

Faith nodded and then her back straightened up at the exact same time Buffy’s did. Bruce noticed the rest of the Slayer’s all followed on high alert, causing him to growl out, “What?”

Shaking her head, Faith turned to Buffy who made eye contact. 

“ _How many are you sensing?”_

Buffy put her hands down and flashed ‘ **six** ’ quickly, causing Faith to nod in agreement. 

She then snapped her fingers, and all the girls turned to her as one. 

“Amanda, you and Nikki take the left flank. Kennedy, you’re with Shannon...right flank. Rona, take Vi and go high.”

What’s going on?” John bit out—while Lari, Blair, Eden and Serena seemed perplexed. Bart was watching the young women all move out silently into the crowd.

“Gorgeous?”

Faith shook her head in warning. 

“There’s six in the club right now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Faith?” Blair asked worriedly, but Faith just responded with...

“You need to stay here with Bruce and John. Whatever happens, don’t leave them, got it?”

Blair nodded, her eyes wide with fear. 

As she went to stand up, Bruce grabbed her. 

“Krasivyy?”

“ _Be careful._ ”

“Of course, but this is what I do.” Faith bit back and Bruce nodded, watching both Buffy and Faith disappear into the crowd. 

It felt like hours had passed, but in reality was probably only ten minutes when the fire alarm sounded and everyone started to leave in full. Bruce shook his head at the group and waited...

He didn’t have to wait long however, as once the club was empty save for their group, several figures moved out of the shadows. 

The largest moved forward with a rabid gleam in his eye. 

Then all hell broke loose.

Shannon came out of nowhere and attacked the vampire to the right, launching him across the room accordingly, while another vampire fell twenty feet from the rafters, with Rona right on top of him, her hand gripped on his throat threateningly, and a stake hovering over his heart.

Amanda had another one down on the ground just as quickly, and then another went flying across the room, as Faith literally launched it right into the back wall, shattering the mirrored encasing into smithereens. 

Buffy then moved out into view, her body radiating aggression as she took in the largest of the vampires, and said caustically, “You better have a good reason for being here right now!”

The dark skinned vampire, who looked like something out of Italian GQ, smiled widely at her. 

“ _Belladonna_!”

“Cut the crap, Gio...”

“You _know_ this guy?” John snarled. 

“Allow me to introduce myself? I am Giovanni Medici.”

“Excuse me?”

“Also known as the Immortal.”

John scoffed, as he shook his head in disgust. 

“ _You slept with this guy?”_

“Shut it, Johnathan!” Buffy bit back sarcastically, before she glared heatedly at her old lover. “Why the fuck are you here in New York?”

“I came to speak with your friend, Nickolayevna. It has been nearly a century since I’ve spoken with one of the Romanova. I am here to offer my services.”

“What kind of services?” Faith growled. 

“Perhaps we might seek to take this elsewhere, Bella? The local authorities will be arriving any moment and I’d rather not have to explain myself, if that’s alright with you. I also have something that belongs to you, Nickolayevna.”

Faith threw her hands up, but one look at Bruce, she could tell he was curious. 

“B?”

“Fine, but I _swear_ , Gio...you so much as make a wrong move and I will stake you through your heart.”

“Noted.”

Rona went to move off the vampire, but he grinned up at her and then groped her...earning a backhanded punch for his troubles. 

“Touch me again, without permission? And I will cut your head off! Got it?”

“She’s a feisty one!” Gio purred, as his eyes glittered at Rona with interest, “Perhaps you might be willing to indulge me, Tesoro?” 

Rona sneered at him and bit back, “Se tu o uno dei tuoi tirapiedi mi toccasse di nuovo senza permesso? Non avrò problemi a staccarti la testa dalle spalle con un sorriso felice sul mio viso, capito?”

(If you or one of your stooges so much as touches me again without permission? I will have no problem severing your head from your shoulders with a happy smile on my face, got it?)

The Immortal chuckled in amusement as he replied back smoothly, “Che peccato, bella ragazza. Avrei potuto mostrarti un piacere diverso da qualsiasi cosa tu abbia mai conosciuto.”

(Such a pity, pretty girl. I could've shown you pleasure unlike anything you've ever known)

Bart felt his back stiffen at the clear look of lust on the vampire’s face, not to mention the inflammatory words, which he’d understood—but all Rona did was scoff and reply mockingly in English, “I’m like walking heroin, _friend_. Habit forming—sure, but it never ends well. At least, not for _you_.”

Rona then smirked unapologetically, earning an amused snort from Buffy and an eye roll from Faith. 

Everyone else seemed to be a mixture of stunned, shocked and in one case, very impressed.

“Time to go.” Faith called out and the rest of the girls appeared, each one with a vampire captive. 

“Quite the group you have here, Bella!” Gio quipped. 

“Gio?”

“Yes?”

“ _Shut the fuck up!”_

The vampire just chuckled in amusement. “Shall we take this somewhere more private?”

“There’s an abandoned Church on South Street, three blocks north of the bridge?” Rona gritted out. 

“Sounds good.” Buffy agreed readily. “Go ahead Rona and stake it out. Take Vi, Kennedy and Shannon with you. Amanda, you and Nikki stay here. Patrol around the perimeter and call in when the coast is clear.”

They all nodded and left one by one. 

“Quite the army of Slayers you have,” Gio piped up, “yet none of them are quite as formidable as you and Nickolayevna, Bella.”

“If you have a point, you can make it later.” Buffy snarked sarcastically. “Faith?”

“Five by five.”

They watched the vampires leave and then the owner of the club came out and took in the damage with a defeated sigh. 

“Nice friends, Eden.”

“Send me the bill.” Faith spoke up caustically, and the woman nodded reluctantly, knowing she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. 

“We need to go.” Buffy lamented, and Faith went to go with her, but Bruce stopped her from leaving.

“I’m coming with you.” He whispered lowly.

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“No.”

“Faith...”

“You’re not _prepared_ , Bruce. So the answer is ‘ **no**.” He went to speak, but she put up her hand to stop him as she spoke to him silently... 

_These vampires aren’t the run of the mill vamps that you’ve taken on before. These vamps are likely as old, if not older than Angel. The older a vampire?_

“The stronger they are.” Bruce finished with a belabored sigh. 

“I love you, but you’re not strong enough to take these guys on, especially if things go south.”

“And you’re pregnant!”

Faith stared at him morosely, doing her level best to ignore the interested stares of those left within the room. 

“I’m sorry, but my answer is _no_!”

Bruce watched as Faith turned and left with Buffy, and his face twisted into fear. 

“She’s going to be fine, Wayne.” John offered, his voice however, was also tinged with worry. 

“You don’t know that!” Bruce gritted out.

“I have to believe that, because those two women who just left? Together, there is no force more powerful then they are. You’ve seen it. You need to trust in Faith’s judgement. This is their calling. They are Slayers, Wayne—and as much as I want to rush in, stand and fight toe to toe with Buffy? We don’t get a vote. Not about _this_. You knew how it went down, when you fell in love with Faith.”

Bruce lifted his head and sighed in defeat, because as much as he didn’t want to admit it?

He knew John was right. 

“Fine, let’s go.”

On the ride back to the hotel, Bruce tried his best to ignore the interested stares from Bart, and the others...but Blair wouldn’t be put off. 

And frankly, he didn’t expect her to be.

“Bruce?”

He turned to wide brown eyes, that were watching him with concern. 

“What is it, Blair?”

“What’s a Slayer?”

Bruce rubbed his hands down his face and leant forward, placing his elbows on his thighs as he considered the young woman in front of him. 

He’d figured she was too smart and clever, for anything but the absolute honest, brutal truth. 

“Faith is what’s known as a Slayer. The short version is she and Buffy, were called to fight the forces of evil: Vampires, demons, monsters. They’ve been doing this since they were both younger than you are now. Buffy was called first. When a Slayer dies, another is called, but when Buffy died in 1997? She was brought back. Faith was called in 1998, when a Slayer named Kendra—her predecessor, was killed by a vampire. In 2003, the town of Sunnydale faced a great evil—vampire progenitors called Turok-Han. The young women you saw tonight, were bestowed with Faith and Buffy’s powers to help fight that evil. Many died. There were about fifty who fought, and only the ones you saw from tonight, plus three others, survived that day. There were thousands of vampires, Blair.”

“How do you know this?”

“It’s a long story, but trust me when I tell you that both myself and John witnessed what they were up against. If I hadn’t seen it, I’m not sure I would’ve ever believed it.”

“How many vampires has Faith killed?”

“Hundreds of vampires. Hundreds of demons too. She’s what Rona affectionately calls, _a bad ass._ ”

Everyone snickered at that. 

“That’s why you fell in love with her, wasn’t it?” Eden asked quietly, and Bruce turned to his former lover and replied honestly...

“It’s one of the many reasons, Eden. I’m sorry, if I hurt you with my callousness. It was never my intention to lead you on. There was a time not too long ago, I’d resigned myself to remaining alone. It took someone like Faith, barreling her way into my life, for me to see a better path for my future.”

“She’s actually perfect for you.” Eden admitted softly. “She doesn’t put up with your bullshit nor your penchant for sullen moodiness.”

Bruce lifted an amused eyebrow, while everyone just laughed at his expense. 

“Thanks, Eden.”

“Not a problem, Bruce.”

“How long do you think?” John asked, after another moment of tense silence. 

“I don’t know, but if she’s not back by 2am, I’m going out there to find her.”

“Not without backup, you’re not.” John demanded and Bruce just shook his head, but didn’t reply. Glancing down at his watch, it was just before midnight. He had to believe that Faith would come back to him safe and unharmed. 

He just couldn’t fathom any other scenario, not without wanting to rage and destroy everything in his path. 


	64. The Immortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith discovers how her Great-grandmother escaped from Russia.

Rona had given them the address, and it didn’t take long for Faith and Buffy to arrive. They’d spotted Kennedy outside, and her nod let them know the coast was clear. 

When they walked inside, Gio was standing near the broken down pulpit, his eyes gleaming with thinly-veiled humor. 

“Nice choice.” He said with a smirk. 

“So glad you approve.” Buffy bit back. “Now, how can we help you?”

“It’s I, who can help you, Bella. Or, help the young Romanov, as it were. Please come inside and sit down. You have my word, I won’t seek to harm you, nor your slayers. I just wish to talk.”

“Then _talk_.” Faith challenged. “I don’t mean to be rude, but something tells me we have maybe thirty minutes before my fiancé decides to change his mind and follow us down here, weapons blazing.”

“Ah, Mr. Wayne. Gotham’s Dark Knight, yes? Quite a formidable human you’ve found to stand beside you, Nickolayevna.”

“Is there a point to this?” Buffy demanded. “Because I’m tired and need my beauty rest.”

Gio smiled, as he bowed his head at his former paramour. 

“Very well. I’ve come to offer you my help, Nickolayevna. You see, ninety years ago, I was summoned to Russia by a man called Gregor Rasputin. He had magic, and had the gift of foresight. He asked for my help in bringing down the Romanov family. I listened to his plea, but in the end, I chose to betray him. I took his knowledge and shared it with your ancestor, Czar Nicholas. A plan was formed that day. It was I, who ferried your prababushka to safety. It was I, who made sure she survived.”

Faith stepped back stunned, while Buffy just stood there stock still, unsure of how to react. 

“ _How_?” Faith pleaded. 

“I smuggled her out of the palace the night before the family was taken. Your prapraded, entrusted her into my care and he asked of me two things. The first, to make sure she made it to the New World, and the second, was when his Heir came forth, I was to offer my loyalty as well as substantiated proof that you and your children were his Heir’s, by blood and by right.”

“And what was it, that he gave to you?”

Gio pulled out a small box from his suit pocket and held it out. Faith glanced at Buffy warily, but the blonde Slayer nodded, so Faith walked over and went to reach for it, when Gio warned simply, “Once you take this gift, Nickolayevna? _There is no turning back. Do you accept this token with the understanding of your birthright, your heritage and your destiny?”_

Faith swallowed and nodded. “I do.”

“So be it.”

Faith took the box and opened it, her eyes widening in stunned disbelief at what was inside. 

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Buffy came over and her mouth opened it a stunned “ _oh_!”

For inside the box, was The Royal Ring of Czar Nicholas II, the Imperial crest stamped on the sterling silver ring. Inside the band, it had the date of his ascension to Czar. 

“This really was his?” Faith swallowed heavily, feeling her emotions surge as her hands shook with adrenaline. 

“It was. He said it was to be given to your son, Damian Nicholas and only him. He _alone_ , will rise to rule Russia again, Nickolayevna.”

Faith lifted her head up, and her gaze narrowed slightly. “He told you?”

“He did.” Gio chuckled deeply, before he took an envelope out of his pocket. “This is for you as well. A letter from your Great-Grandmother. Nicolay shared his vision with Anastasia the night I absconded with her to freedom. She was reluctant to leave her family, and it was only once I’d revealed my true form, and she was told of the portent of what was to come, that she was finally convinced and agreed to leave her family behind for the greater good. There were several items she took with her, and before she sailed for this land, she visited a trusted confidant in London. I do believe you might find what you seek in that letter.”

“Shit.”

Gio chuckled again. “I am at your disposal. The task ahead of you will be a challenging one, Nickolayevna, but not an insurmountable one. I will do what I can. I owe as much to your Prapraded.” He lifted his hand and Buffy noticed the ring on Gio’s finger. 

“Where did you get _that_?”

“It was a gift, from a friend.” He then bowed to Faith humbly. “Your Grace.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Call on me should you have need.” Gio then smirked at Buffy and said sincerely, “Be happy, Belladonna. The man you’ve chosen, seems a good fit. It is clear he accepts your calling and will not fail you.”

“I know that.”

“I hope that you do.”

The two women watched the Immortal incline his head once last time, before he left the church, his entourage in tow. 

“We should get back to the hotel, pronto.” Buffy lamented. 

Faith nodded, and grabbed her phone, calling Bruce who picked up immediately.

“Where are you?”

“On my way back.”

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hurry back.”

Hanging up, Faith and Buffy left the church, the junior brigade close behind. They’d managed to call for a cab and it took them about forty minutes to get back to the Palace. Once there, they all made their way upstairs to Faith’s suite and when she walked in, she was instantly besieged by Bruce, who took her into his arms and kissed her breathless. 

When he’d felt his point was made, he pulled back, hazel eyes flickering over her face with concern. 

“What did he want?”

“We need to sit.”

Bruce nodded, and wrapped his arm around her, taking her into the large living room where everyone had gathered. Blair and Lari were still there too, but Serena and Eden had gone back home, after promising to keep the details of the night under wraps. 

“Blair wouldn’t leave.” Lari apologized, while the younger woman just sat back and glared. 

“Damn right, I wouldn’t!”

“It’s fine, Lari.” Faith sighed softly, as Bruce led her to the loveseat, and she could feel the weighted stares of everyone. Glancing around, she nodded to each one of the junior brigade, and then spoke...

“I need to know now, before this goes any further...do I have the loyalty of everyone in this room? Because if you can’t give me that? Please leave. I won’t be offended, nor upset at all.”

“What is it?” Bruce demanded, but Faith lifted her index finger and shook her head subtly. His hazel eyes were filled in so many emotions, Faith couldn’t pinpoint them at all, but she could feel everything he was feeling and it was taking every bit of her self control, not to lose her shit right now. 

“Faith?” Buffy admonished firmly, “You know that each of us who’ve fought side by side, are here for you. This is what we do. _This is who we are_. I think I finally understand a few things that I’ve been purposefully ignorant of. This is bigger than just the supernatural world. If the Powers have seen fit to interfere, then there has to be a bigger issue at play.”

“And you guys?” Faith asked and all the girls looked to each other, but it was Rona who spoke up first. 

“Faith, you can’t protect us from what’s out there, no matter how much you think it’s your job to do so. We fight, we kick ass and we take names. This is our _destiny_. You and Buffy, gave us the choice in Sunnydale, to take on the powers of the Slayer and we all chose to fight. There’s no take backs, in this game. _We fight, or we die_. I’d rather die in the service of my sister, than die going down any other way. If that’s my destiny, then I say— **bring it on.”**

“Ditto.” Violet spoke up, her voice cold and sure. 

“Yes.” Amanda nodded fiercely. 

“We’ve got your back, Faith.” Shannon replied with a smirk. 

“I’m in.” Nikki grinned. “It’ll be fun.”

“As if I have a choice!” Kennedy piped up, but her small lifted smile belied her harsh words. “As if Red would ever abandon you either, please! And before you ask, I have no doubt that Colleen, Eve and Chao Ahn will agree, too. I might be a bitch, but even I know, Faith that we’re stronger together than not.”

“You guys are the best.” Faith snarked back fondly. 

“I might not be a Slayer, but I’m in.” John quipped, pulling Buffy into his side. “I enjoy a good brawl.”

Bart shook his head. “If this involves corporate espionage, or any kind really? Who better than me to play the game.”

“If you agree to this Bart, there’s no going back?” Faith bit out, and the older man sat back smugly and winked. 

“Are you kidding me? I haven’t had this much fun in _forever_.”

“And Chuck?” Blair asked worriedly, and Bart’s grey eyes settled onto the young woman his son loved like nothing he’d ever seen in his life...except perhaps, the couple sitting together on the loveseat. Blair Waldorf, who was strong and capable, smart and fierce—and he cocked his head thoughtfully. 

“Blair? Are you going to sit this one out?”

“Fuck, no.”

Bart threw back his head and snorted out in glee. 

“Then what makes you think my son, who sees just as much as you do and is even better at manipulation and ferreting out people’s secrets than you are? Is going to sit on the sidelines of likely the biggest game of his life? _My son, plays to win._ If I even think of going behind his back, and he finds out you were in this game and he wasn’t, because I tried to protect him and not you? What do you think his reaction might be?”

“He’d come after you, and happily ruin you. And you’d never see him coming and he wouldn’t feel bad about it either, nor bat an eye doing it.”

Bart nodded proudly. “When my stubborn, brilliant son, finally understands where his future needs to be? I will more than happily pay Eleanor that ridiculous dowry your grandfather insisted upon. You, my dearest girl, are worth every penny and then some.”

Blair smiled widely, while Bruce grinned and nodded, pleased. 

“How much we talking, Bart?” John deadpanned, earning a sneer from the older man but he didn’t hesitate nor bat an eyelash when he replied waspishly, “One Billion Dollars.”

“Holy shit, really?” Faith crowed. “That’s...wait a minute? Does Lari have a similar dowry?”

“Yes.” Lari sneered, rolling her eyes for effect before she shook her head in disgust. “Which is a load of rubbish, if you ask me.”

“You never told me that, Lari.” John snarked out petulantly. 

“Well, it didn’t matter...Johnathan! We weren’t well suited long term. You drove my mother crazy.”

“Eh, Eleanor adored me.”

“She _despised_ you. You ruined her...”

“Nope! We’re not revisiting ancient history, kiddo. That was Cyrus fault.”

“Whatever.”

Blair giggled, while Buffy just appeared intrigued. 

“Perhaps we can table the trip down memory lane for tonight?” Bart deadpanned, “It’s late, and we have more important business to attend to, yes?”

“Bart’s right.” Bruce agreed calmly, ignoring the older man’s smug smirk. “What happened, Gorgeous?”

Glancing over at Buffy, the blonde nodded once, so Faith decided to go for broke. 

“I know how my Prababushka made it out of Russia.”

“What?” Bruce whispered out stunned, and by the expressions on everyone else’s faces, they too—were equally shocked. 

“The Immortal. Apparently, according to him, he was summoned to Russia in 1917 by Gregor Rasputin, before my ancestors were taken by the Bolshevik’s.”

“So that’s how?”

“Yes.”

“How what?” Buffy asked curiously. 

“Zarina. She gave me a box of keepsakes when she was here before—but in the box? Was a letter from my Prapraded, Nicholas...he’d indicated he was aware of Rasputin’s double-dealing and somehow had figured out how to save Anastasia. He didn’t go into specifics. He did, however, write down that he knew about me, and my future son.”

Everyone just processed that information as well, and Faith could see that while the girls understood more about how portents worked, the others were still a bit disbelieving. 

“The Immortal, was given a gift to return to me from my Prapraded to eventually, give to my son. I received a vision after my altercation with the Joker, of Bruce’s and mine child. Damian. In the letter, my Prapraded, called him that. The Immortal also, knew that name, when he handed me this...”

Faith took out the box from her jacket pocket and opened it up. She showed it to Bruce first, and he hissed out a breath of wonder. 

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes.” Faith nodded seriously, before she turned the box and showed it to everyone else. “This is my Prapraded’s Ring. The Royal Coronation Ring of Czar Nicholas II.”

“ _Holy fuck!”_ John whispered out shakily, as he’d also noticed Bart’s face paling slightly too. 

“It has his coronation date inside the band. I have no doubt this is the real thing. The Immortal told me that this ring, is for my son, Damian. And him alone.”

Bruce whistled softly, his hazel eyes locking with concerned brown ones and she asked him silently, “ _Are we good?”_

“Yes.” He replied back sincerely.

“That’s not all.”

“What more could there be?” Blair blurted out in amazement. 

Faith pulled out the letter, as she forged ahead stiltedly, “This letter? It’s from my Prababushka, Anastasia. She left it in the care of the Immortal.”

“Faith...”

“I know, Krasivyy. But whatever is in this letter, I need to know it and if we’re really going to go forward with this? There can’t be any secrets. As much as it’s not in my nature to trust, I can’t expect people to help, and put their lives on the line without knowing all of the facts. If it was just me? I’d never ask, but this isn’t just about me anymore. This is about you and our son and his future.”

“I get it.” Bruce nodded in resolved understanding.

Faith took a deep breath and opened the letter carefully. When she pulled it out, a key dropped onto her lap. She picked it up and handed it to Bruce. 

“It’s a key to a safety deposit box.”

“Which one?” Bart asked with interest. 

“Harrods.”

“Shit.” 

“The IWC is just down the street from Harrods in Knightsbridge,” Buffy breathed out softly, “do you think that’s a coincidence?”

Faith shrugged. “Dunno, but I don’t think we can rule out the possibility either.” She then unfolded the letter and noticed immediately it was written in Russian...

...and addressed to her...

So she translated, as she read it out loud...

_**Nickolayevna,** _

_**I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now as you read this letter. I’m sure it’s as difficult to comprehend, as it was for me when I’d discovered that certain myths were based in truth. I’m confident you know of what I mean, yes? The hardest thing I’ve ever done, was to obey my father and leave my family behind, knowing the horrors that would await them. To leave behind all I’ve ever known, the safety and love of my family, for the unknown. Even now, my fears will not abate completely. They are dead, and I am left alone in this world.** _

_**Giovanni is a trusted friend. He saved me and has honored his promise to see me to this new world. I’ve found my way to Boston, with my loyal manservant, Andrian Seminov, who has vowed to stay by my side and protect me, always. The key in this envelope will take you to London and Harrods. If all is as it should be, take the key and ask the owner for Emeyla’s Pike. That should get you to where you need to go.** _

_**I can only hope this letter finds you alive and well. It is hard to fathom at the age of eighteen, that I am now an orphan. That my once loving family? Is no more. I cannot allow any to know of my true identity, for to do so would mean my certain death, and I refuse to die in vain. I cannot allow my family to die in vain either.** _

_**Avenge us, Nickolayevna. Be strong, and claim back what was wrongfully taken from us. Your son will be the rightful patriarchal heir to my Father’s legacy and that of The House of Oldenburg. If I had one wish, it would be? To see the Romanov rise once again.** _

_**All my love,** _

_**Anastasia Nickolayevna Romanova** _

  
The room fell into a deep abiding silence and there were several sniffles that Faith registered, but that was secondary to her own tears. She handed the letter to Bruce and without looking at anyone, made her way out onto the balcony, where the lights of New York beckoned all around her. She couldn’t look at anyone’s pitying expressions—all she could do was process her own anger and rage at how much her family had suffered and lost...

... _and for what?_

Power, money, envy, greed, fear?

Was it right to place that burden on a seventeen year old girl?

Sixteen year old girl?

She gazed into the heavens, and then closed her eyes—her mind whirring with so many emotions. She didn’t see the concerned looks from the others in the room. She did hear Bruce, however, asking everyone to give them some time to process this, and they would speak again in a few days. 

When the door closed in the outer room, Faith didn’t even make it to the count of ten, before the strong, sure arms of her love, wrapped themselves securely around her waist. 

“Gorgeous?”

“I’m okay.” She whispered brokenly. 

“You’re _not_ , but it’s okay. No one expects you to have all the answers right now, nor does anyone expect you to not want to rage at the unfairness of it all.”

“She was only seventeen, Bruce. Ripped from her family and forced into a world she knew nothing about.”

“ _Just like you.”_

She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes in frustration. 

“It’s not fair.”

“I know.” He whispered deeply into her ear. “None of it is fair. Life is unfair. We didn’t ask to be orphans, Faith. We didn’t ask to be broken, nor to have our safety net obliterated due to greed and fear. People fear what they don’t understand, it’s true. But one thing you do have now, that you didn’t have then? Are people who will stand with you and fight this battle with you. You’re not alone anymore, Gorgeous. I’m here, and no matter what happens, I will always be here.”

Faith turned around and gazed up into the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. Bruce Wayne was the entire package. He was as handsome inside, as outside. He was fearless, devoted and hers. In no wish that she’d ever made growing up, had she’d envisioned a more perfect person for her one. 

Bruce was simply put?

A dream come true. 

And she loved him without reservation.

If the world fell away, she would always love him. 

“I don’t know what I’ve ever done in my life to deserve you?” Her voice broke on the last two words. 

Bruce shook his head emphatically. “No! If anything, it’s me who is the undeserving one. Of all the things I’ve seen and done with my life, nothing and no one has ever meant more to me than you do. If we live to be 100, I will still love you with everything that I am. My heart was just a shell, before you came into my life.”

“I know. I feel exactly the same way, Krasivyy.” She ran her hands through Bruce’s hair and smiled softly, when his eyes closed in bliss as they always did when she touched him this way. 

“Make love to me?”

Hazel eyes opened in surprise, and then darkened noticeably in response, before she was lifted into strong arms, the smell of Bruce’s cologne tickling her senses and causing her panties to dampen with anticipation. 

This right here, within the circle of Bruce’s arms...was her safe haven. 

It was now, and it would always be...

... _Her home._

Everyone left Faith’s room feeling a myriad of differing emotions, but because of the lateness of the hour, everyone was rather exhausted too. 

So being the consummate host that he was?

Bart escorted his guests to their accommodations, but not before wishing Lari and Blair a good night and making them promise to come back for brunch the following day with Eleanor and Cyrus. 

Buffy and John had found their own way to their suite, and each of the remaining Slayers seemed particularly fine with sharing accommodations. 

Except for Rona, who was rather particular and liked having her own space. 

So Bart dropped her off to her room last. 

“If you have need of anything, Miss Rona, please don’t hesitate to call down to room service and they’ll be more than happy to assist you.”

“Thanks.”

Bart nodded and went to leave, when the young woman stopped him. 

“You don’t seem to be too thrown by all of this, Mr. Bass?”

Turning back around, Bart smirked. “I’ve had to learn to adapt in my life, Miss Rona. I’m fairly flexible when needed.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You were quite formidable tonight.”

The woman shrugged. “I enjoy what I do.”

“I can see that.”

“Well, thanks again.”

“It’s not a problem.” Bart bowed his head, his grey eyes assessing the woman closely. “You’re very loyal to Faith.”

“I am.”

“Bruce mentioned about your family tonight. He didn’t give me your last name?”

“I don’t use it.”

“I see.” Bart’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Rona chuckled deeply as she bit back, “Of course you did. You like to find out where you can gain an _in_ , and I’d imagine you’re quite good at picking at people’s weaknesses too. News flash hotshot, I don’t have have any weaknesses to pick at.”

“No?”

“No. Probably because I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks about me. I do what I want, when I want. I enjoy the hunt, and the kill.”

“A beautiful predator?”

“Sure. Although I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone use that word when it comes to me, well except for the creepy vampire, but that’s Buffy’s deal—not mine.”

Bart was taken aback. The woman before him was quite pretty. Her skin was a burnished chocolate color, which led to the assumption that she probably had a Caucasian ancestor somewhere in her lineage, but it mattered little. Her hair was an untamed riotous ringlet of curls that hovered around strong cheekbones, and ample lips. Her teeth were white, and straight...her nose was perfectly suited to her facial structure, but it was her eyes that were the most striking part of her features. 

They glowed like two pieces of golden amber, and he was instantly struck with how familiar they seemed to be.

She was also taller than the other girls, but not by much. 

Her figure however, had generous curves and an ample backside that was rather fetching. 

“Are you checking me out?” Rona huffed out in amusement, and Bart folded his arms and smirked, as he leant up casually against the wall outside her room.

“Possibly. However, you are a bit young for my tastes, Miss Rona.”

“Call me Rona, okay? And age is just a number. Besides how old are you? Forty-five?”

“Yes.” He was surprised that she knew that.

“Are you a dinosaur?”

“What?” Bart huffed out a stunned guffaw. “I don’t think anyone has ever referred to me as a dinosaur?”

“No?” Rona grinned. “So everything works just fine?”

Bart’s expression shifted into something more predatory, as he nodded. 

“Well, I’m game if you are. But if you’re not up for the challenge?”

Rona’s last words fell away as she turned and moved towards her door, and didn’t even get inside when she felt herself being lifted up, causing her to smile smugly in response. 

“I accept your offer.” Bart replied succinctly. “Are you safe?”

“Please!” Rona scoffed. “Probably safer than you.”

His handsome smirk bloomed on his chiseled features, causing Rona’s heart to speed up at the familiar expression, but she tapped down those memories as he closed her door and led her back towards the bedroom. “Well then? Top or bottom?”

“Fuck! You’re kinda unexpected, but top, definitely.”

“Can you top from the bottom?”

“Can you bottom from the top?”

“Touché, Rona. How rough do you like it?”

“That depends?”

“On what?”

“On how imaginative you are. I’m pretty sure I can take whatever you can dish out, rich man.” She then nibbled on his neck teasingly, before whispering into his ear sultrily, “But I really like to suck cock. Have you ever had a woman deep throat you before?”

Bart grinned, and shook his head. “No, can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Fair enough. I only have one rule, though.”

“Which is?”

“No kissing on the lips. Too intimate. Anything else, is fair game.”

Bart tilted his head in surprise, but nodded slowly in agreement. “I suppose I can abide by that request.”

“Good.” Rona licked her lips in anticipation. “Let’s see if your power only translates to the boardroom, Mr. Bass.”

“Hmmm, I think you’re trying to bait me. No matter.”

Rona squeaked and then laughed out loud when Bart threw her down onto her bed. But she wasn’t laughing much longer though, when he tore off her leather pants, and then hummed in pleasure at finding her bare underneath. 

Then he attached his mouth to her core, and remained there for the next thirty or so minutes...

Leaving her a writhing, soaking mess...

“Damn! You have wicked tongue.” She purred happily, watching as he pulled her legs onto his shoulders, rolled on a hotel condom, and proceeded to enjoy the ride. 

Several hours later, Bart was reclined on the floor, his head tilted back on the edge of the bed, with Rona astride him, riding him like she was possessed. His dick felt like it was ready to fall off, and they’d run out of condoms an hour ago. 

“Shit!” He groaned out in pained pleasure. “I don’t think I’ve ever fucked anyone this much in my life, in a single night.”

“Pity.” She growled into his neck. “Your dick is quite the specimen. Such a shame to waste it.”

He tried to smile, but he just couldn’t muster up the extra energy needed, because his body was ready to explode again. 

“You almost there?” 

“Yes.” He gritted out in blissful agony. 

“Then come.”

“What about you?”

Rona smirked, arching her back and running her hands down her body, until she reached her core and he watched eagerly as she began to play with her clit, even as her body kept riding him. 

Fuck! 

_He was so going to lose it!_

The broken roar of his completion, triggered Rona’s orgasm as she shuddered above him and clamped down onto his dick like a vice, milking him of every little bit of spunk he’d had left in the tank. 

His breathing was quite labored too, while Rona just continued to swirl her hips in that intoxicating way she was wont to do. 

“Would you think less of me, if I told you, I’m pretty much done?”

“No.” She snickered playfully. “We’ve fucked four times. Pretty spry, for an old guy.”

Bart shook his head in amusement. “You’re trouble.”

“Whatever. Shower?”

“I could do that.”

When they got in there, Bart watched avidly as Rona washed herself and then came over and handed him her washcloth, gesturing to her back. He snorted, but complied. The next thing he knew, she was on her knees in front of him, washing him thoroughly. 

And not too surprisingly, his little Bass seemed to really like the attention. 

In particular when she took him into her mouth and sucked him until he was begging for relief. 

And as promised, she fucking swallowed him down whole, her throat convulsing as he slapped his hands against the tile, while the only thing that kept his knees from buckling, were strong hands holding him up. 

“Fucking hell!” He grunted out helplessly.

The soft sound of a pop, as Rona’s mouth disengaged completely—had him gazing down into those familiar bright amber eyes that were watching him with an emotion Bart could only describe as victory. 

And his mouth opened before he could think better of it.

“So, is this a one-night stand?”

Rona’s expression shifted, and then closed off as she stood up and her mouth quirked into a half smirk. 

“ _Sure_.” 

She stepped carefully out of the shower, and Bart frowned—not expecting to be dismissed so easily.

When he moved out to the bedroom a few minutes later, there was no sign of Rona anywhere. The clock noted the time at nearly six in the morning. He dressed and walked out into the living area, and again, no Rona. 

“Shit.”

It wasn’t until he’d reached his room, that Bart realized how she’d must’ve taken his flippant words, and he felt like a first class, heel. 

“Dad?”

Seeing Chuck sitting on the couch, Bart nodded to his son. 

“Chuck. You’re up early?”

“You never came back last night. Everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Son. I’m going to get some sleep. Brunch is at ten.”

“Sounds good.”

Chuck watched his Dad head into his own suite of rooms, with a smug grin plastered on his face. He wasn’t a fool, and knew his Dad had probably gotten lucky last night, but the question was, with whom?

Bart however, was having a momentary crisis of recriminations, as he flopped onto his bed and buried his head under his pillow. But not before calling downstairs for a 9am wake up call. 

Something told him he wouldn’t be seeing Rona again, anytime soon. 

And he had no way to get in touch with her, without drawing attention to himself in the process. 

_He was such an idiot!_


	65. Rona Steward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rona’s true identity is revealed and Bart suddenly understands why she seemed so familiar.

Later that same day, after Brunch, Faith found Rona and Violet in Vi’s room, having a private confab. 

“You two didn’t come down for food? What’s up?”

Violet gave Rona a pitying look, but the other girl just shrugged and said evenly, “Wasn’t in the mood to be sociable. One day a year is enough, you know?”

Faith cocked her head at her friend and replied, “No, I get that. But something has been bothering you. Mind sharing with the class?”

“Nah, I’m good, Mom.”

“Whatever. I’m not going to pester you to talk to me. But don’t think I’m stupid, Rona.” Faith could feel the other woman’s emotions, which were a jumbled mess of anger, irritation and oddly, hurt and disappointment. 

Scrunching her nose, Faith had to admit...

She’d never felt those last two particular emotions coming off Rona before. 

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Faith.” Rona warned. “Violet and me are heading back to Gotham. I’ve seen enough of New York. We’re going to move back to Chicago for a while.”

“Why go there, Rona? I’d thought you’d liked New York.”

“Violet wants to head back to Chicago, and you know me? I’m not really attached to much of anywhere, anymore. Chicago is close enough that Vi and me can get to Gotham soon enough, and I can stay under the radar there, so no worries. And when the kid comes, we’ll be back for a while.”

“And this is what you want, Vi?”

“Yeah. I need to tie up some loose ends in Chicago. Maybe deal with some figurative demons for my own sake. Call it therapy if you want, but it’s just something I need to do. Me and Rona wouldn’t miss Damian’s birth for anything, and she’s right. He’s going to need someone watching out for him, kinda like two nosy aunts. We can do that role, if you’d want us to?”

“Of course!” Faith nodded emphatically. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Cool. We’re gonna leave now. I purchased two one-way bus tickets this morning.”

“The bus?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. Gotham is only a few hours away. Once we get back and packed, we’ll catch a flight to Chicago.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Five by five.”

“Okay. Call me when you get back to Gotham Terrace, okay?”

“We will. Take care of you.”

“I will.”

Faith left their room, her gut telling her she was missing something vitally important, but decided to leave it be for the time being. Rona was a big girl, and if she’d needed to talk, she’d let her in eventually. 

It wasn’t until they were getting ready to leave New York later that night, that Faith’s radar dinged with an early warning sign. 

“Thanks for letting us stay here, Bart.” Faith offered kindly, and Bart nodded in reply. 

“Of course, anytime. Did all the young women leave back to Gotham already?”

“I think so. Vi and Rona took the bus back to Gotham this morning, while the rest of the girls are staying local for now. Violet wants to go back to Chicago, and Rona is going with her.

Bart didn’t reply, but Faith could feel his surprise, and then an emotion utterly foreign to a one Bart Bass. 

_Disappointment_. 

“Well, I will see you in a few weeks.” Bart shook Bruce’s hand. “If you need anything, let me know?”

“We will.” Bruce drawled politely. “And thank you.”

“Not a problem.”

One the plane ride back home, Faith found herself staring out the window, lost in thought and Bruce, who was sitting across from her, had a worried expression on his face. 

“What is it, Gorgeous?”

“Huh?”

Deep brown eyes connected to his, causing Bruce to smile indulgently. “You’re distracted by something. What is it?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Something is off though.”

“What do you mean, off?”

“That’s just it... _off_. Rona this morning, when I spoke with her? The vibe I got from her was off. Usually Rona is an emotional wall. She calls it her fortress of solitude, so I can’t read much from her even on a good day. But this morning? I could sense she was upset and hurt by something, but I don’t know what and she wouldn’t share.”

“Maybe she’s just worried about you? Did you ever think that might be it?”

“Maybe?” But Faith wasn’t convinced, and she wasn’t sure what it was she was missing either.

The following weeks leading up to the wedding, were a blur. There was so much to be done, and between dealing with Roger’s etiquette lessons, working out, training, picking out stuff for the reception, and getting her wedding dress altered—as well as the still occasionally bouts of morning sickness, Faith felt ready to snap in two. 

So when the call came in eight days before her wedding, that Rona had been injured in Chicago, Faith completely lost it. 

Bruce had been on his cellphone in his penthouse, talking to Bart Bass when he heard Faith scream upstairs. 

“ _Shit!”_

“What is it?” Bart had heard it too, and his blood ran cold.

“I’ve got to go.”

Before Bart could reply, Bruce hung up and was running upstairs into his bedroom, where Faith’s elevated voice was screeching at Buffy. 

“ _What the fuck happened?”_

Bruce couldn’t hear what Buffy said, but he could see the pain and tension radiating from his fiancée. 

“What do you mean? Where? Are you sure?”

The words were disjointed, even as Faith paced back and forth in front of the window.

“I’m going to catch the next flight out. No! I’m going! Fine. I’ll get packed and call you in thirty minutes. Yes, I know. Is there anything else? No! I don’t give a shit! I’ll figure something out. Talk to you in a few.”

Faith slammed down her phone and turned, sensing Bruce behind her. 

“Who?”

“Rona.”

“Shit, is she okay?”

“Buffy didn’t know much. I have to go to Chicago.”

Bruce nodded, and called his pilot. 

“Alex?”

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Wheels up, emergency to Chicago.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll have the flight plan filed, and the plane fueled within an hour.”

“Good man, I’ll see you soon.”

Signing off, Bruce went over and took Faith into his arms, kissing her until he felt her ire abate a bit.

“Get your stuff. I’ll grab our gear too, just in case.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Gorgeous.” Bruce replied sincerely, “Where is she?”

“She refused to go to the hospital, so she’s at their apartment.”

“Got it. Get your stuff and we’ll leave in thirty minutes. I’ll call Lucius to let him know where we will be.”

“Sounds good.”

Faith bolted for her apartment and Bruce sighed, calling Lucius and then John—making arrangements to meet at the Palisades airport within an hour. As he was zipping up his duffel bag, a text came through from Bart. 

**Is everything alright?**

_No, Rona’s been injured. We don’t know how bad yet. On our way to Chicago._

There was a brief pause, before Bart texted back...

**Which hospital?**

_She refused to go. So we won’t know how bad it is until we get there._

A phone number appeared in Bruce’s contacts instantly, and he texted back in confusion...

_What is this?_

**A trusted associate. Medical doctor, discreet. Call her if you need to. She will take care of anything Rona needs, and I’ll take care of the rest.**

Bruce was taken aback, not sure how to feel about Bart’s generosity, but unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth, as he texted back...

_Will do. And thanks._

**Not a problem. Keep me in the loop.**

_Will do._

When they got to the Palisades airport, Buffy and John were already there. 

“Have you heard anything else?” Faith demanded.

“Violet called me ten minutes ago. Rona’s in a bad way. She’s still refusing to go to the hospital though. You know how stubborn she is.”

“Bart gave me the name of a trusted associate,” Bruce explained. “I called her and she’s willing, she just needs the address.”

Buffy nodded and gave Bruce the information, which he relayed immediately. Faith, called Violet to let her know a Dr. Melanie Scott, was on her way there, and to let her in—which Violet promised she would do so. 

Three and a half hours later, when they’d finally reached Chicago, and then another forty minutes later to the young Slayer’s apartment, Dr. Scott was still there treating Rona. 

“What happened?” Faith bit out, as Violet ran over and clung onto her sister Slayer, crying in relief. 

“Shit!” Grabbing the young Slayer, dark brown eyes locked with worried green, and Faith could feel Buffy’s concern too. It must’ve been bad. 

“Violet?” Buffy asked softly, “What happened? Vampire, demon?”

“No!” The red head stuttered out. “Gunshot.”

“ _ **What?!”**_ Faith’s voice was deadly, as she pulled Violet back and cupped her face into her hands, her expression fierce. “How?”

“We were coming back from patrolling, on the south side of the city. We didn’t even have a chance. Drive by, turf war thing? At least that’s what Rona assumed. She was hit in the side. She’d sensed them before I did, and knocked me out of the way. She saved me! I tried to stop the bleeding, and got her back here, but the bullet was lodged where I couldn’t get to it, and she was losing blood fast. If Dr. Scott hadn’t gotten here when she did?”

“Fuck!” Faith snarled in anger, and at that moment, the bedroom door opened and an older blonde woman came out. Her face registering surprise at seeing whom was now in the room. 

“Dr. Scott?” Bruce stood up immediately, and went to shake the woman’s hand. 

“Mr. Wayne, yes?”

“Please, call me Bruce.” He nodded and then turned to Faith. “This is my fiancée, Faith Lehane and associates and friends, John Daggett and Buffy Summers.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Miss Steward is stable. I was able to remove the bullet and she is resting. It nicked an artery, but I was able to repair the damage enough to stop the bleeding for now. I have her on some IV antibiotics, and gave her something for the pain. She was adamant about not being admitted to a hospital when I got here, and I didn’t understand it at first, until she gave me her last name. Is she by any chance, related to Robert Steward?”

Bruce and John blanched at the name, recognizing it immediately, while Faith and Buffy didn’t reply. 

“I _see_.” Was all the doctor said. “I’ve done all I can for her. The next twenty four hours will be critical. Call me if you have need me, yes? I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“We will, Doc,” Faith replied and then finished sincerely, “and thank you so much for coming and helping her.”

“It’s not a problem. I was happy to do it.”

When the doctor left, Bruce rounded on his fiancée, gritting out, “Is it true?”

“What?” Faith bit back defensively, folding her arms over her chest.

“Is Rona, Robert Steward’s daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Shit!” Bruce snarled. “He _disowned_ her?”

“Yes.”

Faith could see Bruce’s jaw clenching and unclenching, while John too, looked fit to be tied. 

“ _What happened?”_ John demanded. 

Faith turned away, while Buffy just stood there stoically, but it was Violet who caved. 

“When Rona came to Sunnydale, she’d been in Los Angeles prior. She’d been in her second year at USC, business and psychology—dual major. She was attacked by the Bringers, and her roommate at school had been hospitalized. No one knew what had happened, or who was responsible, but her Father freaked. Told her she’d needed to come back to Chicago immediately. Rona refused. She went to Sunnydale instead. After the fight with the First, she left with Giles back to Chicago. Giles explained to Rona’s father what had happened, and what she’d done, but he didn’t believe it. Told her she needed to come home, and that there was no room for negotiation. Rona refused, told him he was wrong, and a short-sighted, selfish jerk. He slapped her, and Rona left. That’s when Giles sent her to New York. They haven’t spoken in years. She’s his only child from what I understand, and she has no other family. Her mom died, when she was ten.”

“And you _knew_ this?” Bruce demanded, and Faith nodded. 

“Yes. Rona won’t discuss it, ever. She’s an orphan, as far as she’s concerned. She’s never been particularly close with her Father, at least not after her Mother died. He was an ass, from what she’s shared. I think it’s fairly safe to say, she hates him. She closed that door, a long time ago, Bruce.”

“And if Robert knew she was here?”

“I don’t think he’d care,” Buffy piped in, “or perhaps he might? But only because of the fact that Rona, has powerful friends now.” 

At that moment, Bruce’s cell phone rang. He glanced down at the called ID and sighed, before he answered it.

“Hello, Bart.”

“Melanie just called me. She told me to call you for an update.”

“Rona was shot last night. She and Violet were patrolling on the south side of the city. Violet got her back to their apartment and tried to stop the bleeding. We owe you one, Bart. I’m not sure Violet could’ve saved her on her own.”

“Why did she refuse to go to the hospital?”

Bruce glanced over at Faith, who’s expression was contemplative, and he knew that she could feel his indecision. 

“ _Tell him.”_ Was all she said silently, and Bruce nodded. 

“Rona’s last name is Steward, Bart.”

The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening, but when Bart finally came back on, he growled out menacingly, “ _Robert Steward?”_

“Yes.”

“He _disowned_ her?”

“I believe so.”

“What else?”

“I’m not sure that’s my place to share.”

“ _ **I don’t give a fuck, Wayne! What else? Because I can tell by your tone of voice, that there’s more to this!”**_

“Violet told us that after Sunnydale, when Rupert Giles took Rona home, Robert didn’t handle it well at all. He slapped her, and she left. She hasn’t spoken to him since.”

Another weighted silence fell, and then Bart said icily, “I’ll take it from here.”

“Bart?”

“Sorry, Wayne. You don’t get a vote on this. Whatever his reasons? They’re not good enough to hurt and then disown his only child. I know Robert very well, we’ve been friends for years, and it didn’t even register with me that Rona was his daughter. I’ve met her before, you know? First time about, nine years ago? Right before she was sent back to boarding school. I should’ve made the connection, but I didn’t.”

“What are you going to do?”

“You know me, Wayne? I’ll think of something.”

And then the phone went dead.

 _Shit_. 

“What did he say?” Buffy asked quietly. 

“He knows Robert Steward well, and had actually met Rona about ten years ago. I think he’s pissed at himself for not making the connection before now, but I do know that tone in Bart’s voice. This isn’t going to end well for Robert, at all.”

Faith smirked in glee. “He’s going to go all corporate raider on his ass, isn’t he?”

“Probably.” 

“Good for him.” 

John chuckled, while Bruce just shook his head reprovingly at his Slayer—but she was totally unapologetic.

“I’m going to go in and check on Rona.” Was all she’d said. Bruce and John watched, as Violet, Buffy and Faith left them to go into Rona’s room. Once they were gone, John spoke up...

“Bart and Rona, hooked up in New York.”

Bruce whipped his head to the side, his mouth opening in shock. “How do you know that?”

“I saw Bart making the walk of shame, from Rona’s room that Sunday morning—looking as if she’d rocked his world. I have every confidence he’d fucked it up somehow, since Rona never showed for brunch that morning, and she and Violet bailed so quickly afterwards.”

“Does Buffy know?”

“Are you _kidding me_?” John snorted lowly. “I’m speculating here. So there’s no way I’d share that with Buffy or Faith, unless I was absolutely certain of it. They’d skewer Bart otherwise.”

“True.” Bruce grinned. “And I know Bart. He must’ve been more affected then he’d ever let on, if he’s planning on avenging Rona in this way. It’ll be interesting to see how she takes it?”

“Maybe. If she doesn’t kick his ass first.”

Chuckling in commiseration, Bruce had to agree with that sentiment. 

It was several hours before Rona regained consciousness, and when she did, it was to the worried face of a very pissed off Faith. 

“Hey, Mom.”

“Shut the fuck up, kid!”

Rona cracked a grin, and winced at how dry her mouth was. Reaching for some water, Faith helped her take a couple of sips, and Rona hummed her thanks. 

“How long was I out for?”

“Hours.”

“Should I apologize?”

“Yes and no. _Damn it Rona!_ You’re so fucking stubborn. I know why you refused to go to the hospital, and had it not been for Bart fucking Bass, I have no idea if I’d be talking to you right now!”

“Bart Bass?”

“Yes. Dr. Scott is a friend of his, and he gave Bruce the info to have her come here and take care of you. I’m afraid they know.”

“Know what?” Rona whispered in fear. 

“Rona, they _know_.”

“Shit!”

Tears welled behind Rona’s eyes, and Faith hissed in anger, seeing her normally stoic friend lose control like this pissed her off even more. 

“He doesn’t know, does he?”

“You’re Dad?”

“Sperm donor, but yeah?”

“No. But Violet did tell Bruce and John what’d happened when your sperm donor confronted you from before, and apparently? You have some explaining to do.”

“In what way?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve met Bart Bass, before?”

Rona averted her gaze and stared out the window, her expression closing off. 

“What of it?”

“He made the connection when he called in to check on you. Bruce told him, and he was pissed, kiddo. If I know Bart, he’s going to go after your Dad with everything he’s got. So, if you have any hesitation about him ruining your sorry excuse for a parental figure, now might be the time to speak up?”

“He really said that?”

“His exact words were? I’ll take it from here.”

“Shit.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Rona bit her lip in consternation. “The night before I left New York?”

“Yeah?”

“I might’ve fucked Bart Bass’ brains out.”

“Excuse me?” Faith grinned wickedly. “You did, _what_?”

“You heard me.”

“How was it?”

“Are we grading on a scale?”

“If you want to?”

“A solid nine.”

“Wow, that’s high praise coming from you.”

“Well, I might’ve had a bit of a crush on him from when I was a young girl? I met him once formally, but I had seen him at my Dad’s house before that, and after. Call it, fulfilling a school girl fantasy.”

“And he didn’t disappoint?”

“Nope.”

“Why’d you bail then?”

“He’d asked me if what we’d done was a one night stand, and I kinda freaked.”

“Rona?” Faith admonished softly, “A man who decides to go all corporate raider, probably wasn’t thinking that one night was enough. If I know Bart Bass, and I’d like to think I do, at this point? You probably rocked his world, and he’s trying to, in his own fucked up way, letting you know that he cares.”

“You think?”

“Probably.”

“That’s just weird.”

“Yeah.”

“He didn’t even recognize me.”

“You fucking idiot!” Faith snarked out in warning, “You were a kid, when he’d met you before. You are a beautiful woman now.”

“He did say that I was beautiful.”

“Well, give it to the man for getting that one right, at least.” Faith tilted her head and asked, “Would you give him the time of day, if he pursued you?”

“Maybe?” Rona shrugged. “But you know me, Faith. I hated all the shit growing up. All those expectations. Music, dance, literature, etiquette. It all sucked. For the first time, I feel like I can be myself. I can swear, and kick ass, and just not give a fuck.”

“True. But Rona, we both know that your Mom loved you. You even told me as much that your Dad, from what you’d remembered, was a different man before your Mom passed away.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t _excuse_ it, Faith. He shipped me off to boarding schools after she died, and no matter how hard I worked, or how smart I was? It was never enough for him. I was Valedictorian of my High School, got a scholarship to USC, straight A’s and it was never enough. I was classically trained in piano, violin and the cello, and it still wasn’t enough!”

At this point, the tears that had been threatening to fall, finally did. 

“Nothing I did, was ever enough for that man! _I was never good enough.”_

Faith wiped the tears from Rona’s cheeks, and shook her head emphatically. 

“You are good enough, Rona. You’re strong and capable. You don’t need to be defined by a worthless parent who doesn’t know how to love. That’s not on you, that’s his deal. Don’t own it!”

“Easier said than done. I knew I should’ve never come back home. I hate Chicago.”

“You hate it, because it reminds you of what you’ve lost.”

“Maybe.” Rona sighed. “I’m tired.”

“Get some sleep.”

“Five by five.”

Faith watched as Rona finally succumbed to slumber, and as she left the room, she glanced back and noticing the tear stains on Rona’s cheeks...

...she’d had just about enough. 

Storming back into the living room, Bruce took one look at his fiancée, and instantly got up off the couch. 

“I know that look!”

“What?”

“Gorgeous, you can’t go and beat the shit out of Robert Steward, no matter how much I would normally applaud the idea.”

“ _Watch me.”_

Before he could stop her, Faith stormed out of the apartment, with Bruce at her heels...while John and Buffy just sat there in shock. 

“Is she really going to go all Slayer on him?” John queried with amusement. 

“Maybe. But I’ll trust Bruce on this one.”

“How pissed is she?”

“Really pissed?” Violet squeaked out. “When she gets like this, there’s no stopping her.”

Down in the lobby, Bruce caught up with his love. 

“Gorgeous, do you even know where you’re going?”

“Does it matter? I’m assuming the fucker has business offices here in the city?”

“Yes.”

“Do you honestly think they’d turn me away?”

Bruce smirked and shook his head in the negative. 

“No, however...I do think we need some kind of plan.”

“I have a plan.”

“ _A plan that doesn’t include you getting arrested for assault!”_

“ **Killjoy!”**

“Maybe.” Bruce agreed, “But you going in there all Slayerfest?” Faith cracked an amused grin at the term, “Might ruin Bart’s element of surprise?”

Faith sighed in consternation. “Rona had sex with Bart.”

“I know. John told me earlier after you’d gone in to check on her what he’d suspected. Seems he saw Bart leaving Rona’s hotel room in New York.”

“Rona admitted she knew Bart from before. Might’ve even had a bit of a school girl crush on the jerk.”

Bruce chuckled and then snorted out a laugh at that. “I think Bart’s more smitten than he’d like to admit. Especially now that he knows who Rona is. Not that I’d think he’d cared when he didn’t know, but Bart has a very set view of traditional roles, and in his world view? My guess, is he’s about to make a statement.”

“You think he’ll pursue Rona, don’t you?”

“I’m thinking it’s likely. The Steward name is highly respected in business circles. Robert, may be a prick for a Father, but he’s a damn good business man.”

“Great. Just how rich we talking?”

“Robert Steward is probably on par with the Waldorf’s wealth.” Bruce clarified, seeing Faith’s eyes widening in surprise. “How about we go get some dinner, just me and you?”

“Really?”

“Yes. Rona is sleeping and Buffy can play Mom for a bit.”

“Okay.”

The car service picked them up fifteen minutes later, after they’d both gone upstairs, changed and told Buffy where’d they’d be. 

“Call me if she wakes up.”

“I will. Go and enjoy a few hours out on the town.”

“Fine.”

Once in the car, Faith asked Bruce where they were going. 

“Alinea. It’s one of Chicago’s better places to eat.”

When they pulled up to the restaurant on Halstead Street, the driver came around and opened the door, nodding at Bruce, who took Faith’s hand and escorted her out. As soon as they entered, the Maitre D was there waiting with a beaming smile. 

“Mr. Wayne, welcome back.”

“Hello, Xavier. It’s been a while.”

“It has, Sir. I have your table ready.”

“Thank you.”

Bruce didn’t miss the interested looks from many of the patrons, as he guided Faith towards the staircase that led to the upstairs private dining area for VIP’s.

When they’d reached the upper level, it was packed. The only open table was in the back left hand corner. 

Bruce nodded to a few people he recognized, but most of the eyes were locked onto Faith, who kept her gaze straight ahead, not acknowledging anyone. 

“Here we are, Sir? Would you like to start off with an aperitif?”

“No, Xavier. Just sparkling water tonight.”

“Very good, Sir. Your server’s name is Gemma, and she will be over to take your orders shortly.”

Bruce nodded and settled in. Faith was sitting with her back to the room, which was her preference as she preferred not to have to deal with people gawking at her. He was more used to the scrutiny, and therefore, was more suited to remain unaffected by the invasive, curious stares. 

“Nice place.” She whispered. 

“It is. It’s been a year since I’ve been here.”

“Oh?”

“Business meeting, Gorgeous. Myself and Lucius with Emerson Smith. Head of ES Biotech.”

“What do they do?”

“Defense contractor.”

“Ah, say no more.” She winked, causing him to grin knowingly. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re more than welcome. Distraction is a tool I’m going to employ judiciously, so I’m gratified you went along with it.”

“Only because you made a good point, and I don’t want to upset Rona anymore than she already is.”

Bruce’s phone dinged, and when he glanced down, he cocked his eyebrow before typing out a response. 

“Bart moves fast.”

“Was that him?”

“He’s already here, in Chicago.” 

“ _What_?” Her voice spoke up into his mind. “ _What is he doing_?”

“Having dinner with a friend. In fact, I do believe they’re on their way here, as we speak.”

“ _Shit_.” Faith replied in his mind. “ _Did you two plan this?”_

“Last minute collaboration, Gorgeous. Trust me?”

“Always.” She said out loud. “You know that.”

Just then their server came over and took their orders, bringing sparkling water, and Faith ordered some juice. 

It was just after their first course had been cleared, that Bruce noted Bart and Robert Steward walking up the stairs and into view, being led by Xavier. 

Bart smirked and nodded briefly at him, as he was walking about a half pace behind Robert, and Bruce tilted his head in response. 

“He’s here.” Bruce whispered, and noticed Faith’s eyes narrowing, before her entire body language shifted into her bored, unemotional one. 

“Bruce Wayne?” Robert smiled in greeting, and Bruce stood immediately and walked around the table, as he held his hand out towards the older gentleman. 

“Hello, Robert. How have you been?”

“Can’t complain.” He chuckled, and Bruce noticed Bart’s jaw clench reflexively, before his expression changed to a more placid one. 

“Bass.”

“Wayne.”

Robert grinned. “Are you two still acting like a couple of school yard rivals?”

“Old habits.” Bart quipped. “But we do get along these days, mostly anyway.”

Faith turned her head and winked at Bart, who bowed formally. 

“Hello, Your Grace.”

Robert glanced down and his eyes widened in appreciation as he too, bowed and addressed Faith formally. 

“Sorry, Gorgeous. This old codger is, Robert Steward. Robert, this is my fiancée, Faith Lehane, the Grand Duchess Nickolayevna.”

Faith stood and held her hand out, as Roger had shown her and purred, “Pleasure.”

Robert bowed and kissed the proffered hand with a proud grin. “The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace.” 

“Are you two here for a meeting?” Bruce asked with interest, but Bart shook his head. 

“Not as such. I just happened to be in town and called this one,” he gestured fo Robert, “to see if he’d wanted to have dinner. And here we are!”

“Why don’t you join us? Bruce offered politely, “Unless you were planning on discussing business?”

“Up to you, Robert.”

“I would be honored, of course.” 

Xavier came over and set the rest the table, and Faith moved over next to Bruce, while Bart and Robert sat across from them. 

Their drink orders and dinner orders were taken, while Bruce refilled Faith’s glass with half juice, half sparkling water. 

“So, Bruce? I was gratified to hear, that you’ve finally decided to settle down.”

Bruce nodded and grinned too. “It took a bit of convincing, to get Faith to agree to marry me.”

“Oh?” Robert returned the amused expression. “I hope you didn’t make things too easy for him, Your Grace.”

“Please do me the honor of calling me by my given name, Mr. Steward. Formal titles are always so stuffy in intimate settings, don’t you agree?”

“Very much so. Then please call me, Robert.”

“Of course. How do you know this one here?” She gestured her hand to Bart flippantly, causing him to lift his glass in a mock toast. 

“We go way back.” Robert said proudly. “His first wife, Evelyn and mine were friends. We’ve done some business together over the years.”

“Oh?” Faith asked with interest, and Bart could see that predatory gleam enter her eyes as she asked easily, “I did get to meet Bart’s son in New York, recently. Chuck. Good kid, smart...a chip off the old block. Do you have any children, Robert?”

A dark look fell over Robert’s face before he nodded slowly. “A daughter.”

“Rona, right?” Bart hummed nonchalantly, “How _is_ she these days? I think the last time you’d mentioned her, she was attending college?”

“USC. She dropped out. School apparently, wasn’t her priority.”

“No?” Faith replied, the tone of her voice feigning a sympathy she didn’t feel at all. “What’s she doing now?”

“Don’t know.” Robert shrugged. “We haven’t spoken in a while. She’s a free spirit these days.”

“Must be hard,” Bruce inserted thoughtfully, “I went through that phase too.”

“For seven years?”

“Yes. Traveled the world, wanted to see what was out there. I needed that time to come to terms with my parents deaths, and discover what I’d needed to do for myself. Maybe once she figures things out, she might find her way back home?”

Robert took a measured sip of his drink, and Faith could feel several emotions coming from the man, but the biggest ones were remorse and regret. She gripped Bruce’s leg and squeezed it to get his attention. 

“Rona has always been stubborn. She’s more like me than I’d ever cared to admit.” Robert said quietly. “Unfortunately, our last conversation didn’t go over too well. I’m afraid, I handled it rather poorly.”

“What happened?” Bart asked, his voice was cajoling even though he was feeling more angry than anything. 

“It’s a long story, old friend.”

“If she were here now, would you try and make it right?” Faith queried sincerely. 

Robert sighed, but took another healthy swallow of his scotch before he answered. “I don’t think I’d know how to, after all this time. When Rona’s mother died, a huge part of me died with her. Bart knows this. I didn’t handle it well at all, and instead of being there for Rona, I shipped her off to boarding schools. She was always smarter and stronger than all the other girls there. Top of her class, scholarship to USC.” Robert smiled with pride, but Bruce could see the man was struggling. “I suppose it makes sense in a way, that she would end up forging her own path.”

“People do that sometimes.” Faith admitted. “But we still need family, even if it’s hard.”

“You sound like you have experience with that?”

“I do.” Faith nodded. “I’m an orphan, like Bruce. I saw my Father kill my Mother and then he killed himself, because he’d found out who she was, and what that meant.” Faith watched as both men across from her gaped openly in horror, but she bravely forged on. “I’ve spent most of my life alone, running from one to the next thing. Fighting to survive. I was given a calling at a young age, and didn’t handle it well. Made some poor choices, but ended up fighting the good fight in the end.”

She could now feel Robert’s weighted gaze on her. “What kind of _calling_?”

“You know exactly what kind of calling, Robert.”

She’d felt his panic set in the second before his expression darkened again. “This isn’t a coincidence, is it?”

“Do you want it to be?” Faith mocked. “Would you rather I get up and leave here, and let both Bart and Bruce deal with you? They like to play games, but I prefer the direct approach. Sorry, Bart.”

“Don’t apologize, Faith.” Bart smirked. “I suppose it’s only fair to give my old friend here, the chance to make this right, before I come after him.”

Robert turned to Bart, and he could see the hard gleam in his friend’s gaze. 

_He knew that look._

“She’s _here_ in Chicago, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Faith bit out lowly. “She was shot last night.”

Robert clenched his hands around his tumbler, as he swallowed heavily. 

“She’s okay?”

“For now.” Faith replied evenly. “She refused to go to a hospital. She knew if she did, they’d call you and she didn’t want to see you. Thankfully, Bart here, has a friend who was able to help. She’s stable.”

Robert nodded and set his tumbler down, sitting back in his chair as he eyed Faith critically.

“Rupert Giles?”

“Yes?”

“You know him?”

“I do.”

“He wasn’t lying, was he?”

“No, he really wasn’t.”

The man before her bowed his head, and Faith could feel the anger, rage and despair wafting off Robert Steward in waves. 

“I take it these two know, too?”

“We do.” Bruce answered directly. “I’ve seen first hand what Rona was up against in Sunnydale and what she’d survived that day, Robert. For your own sake, you need to try and find a way to make this right with your daughter. She’s a warrior, but she needs her Father.”

“She hates me.”

“With good reason, you idiot.” Bart snarked with a shake of his head. “You _hit_ her?” 

Bart asked with so much venom, Robert was taken aback. 

“Yes. I have no excuse for it, and I regretted it the instant it happened and everyday since then. Rona didn’t even flinch. She just scoffed at me, turned and walked out the door. It was the last time I saw her.”

“I should deck you, _old friend.._.for that alone.”

Robert turned to Bart, and his eyes narrowed accusingly. “What right do you have, to chastise me, old friend?”

The smirk that bloomed over Bart’s face, had Faith giggling and Bruce chortling in amusement, but it took Robert a bit longer to get in on the uptake. 

“ _You and Rona?_ ” Robert hissed out, and Bart nodded smugly. 

“Yes. And for the record, she is probably as angry with me as she is with you. However, I’m not an idiot, nor a fool. So? How do you want this to go, old friend?”

“You’re really going to sit there, and tell me that I should be alright with you...and Rona?”

“Nope.” Bart quipped. “I’m telling you that you don’t get a vote. If she wants me in her life, then you’ll accept it with a happy smile on your face. That is, if she decides to forgive you for being an ass.”

Bart popped a piece of bread into his mouth and chewed on it with relish. 

“I hate you sometimes.”

“Sure.” Bart deadpanned. “Seems like you have a choice to make?”

“Where is she?” He demanded—so Faith told him, leaving Robert to plead, “I want to see her.”

“And if she doesn’t want to see you?” Bart hissed out, but Faith shook her head at him. 

“I think she’ll talk to you, Robert. If the conversation I had with her this afternoon was anything to go by—however? You have a lot of groveling to do. I suggest you get good with that idea.”

“Duly noted.” 


	66. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rona and her Father, have a heart to heart.

After dinner was done, the four of them took Bruce’s town car back to Violet’s apartment and when they’d entered, John stood up and chuckled in amusement. 

“Seems you owe me, Sweetness.”

“Shut up, John!” Buffy bit back, half amused before her expression fell at the dark-skinned man. “You must be, Robert Steward?”

“Yes, and you are?”

“Buffy Summers.”

Robert nodded. “Mr. Giles spoke of you.”

“I’m sure he did.” Buffy replied evenly. “Violet is in with Rona. She woke up thirty minutes ago, and is eating some soup right now.”

“Is Melanie coming back?” Bart asked, and John nodded. 

“In the morning.”

“Good.”

At that moment the door to Rona’s room opened, and out walked Violet. Her head was down but the second she looked up, the dishes in her hands gave way. Thankfully, Faith’s quick reflexes caught the bowl before it crashed to the floor. 

“Sorry.” Violet whispered in shock. 

“Five by five, Vi.”

“Is he?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not going to go over well.”

Bart chuckled, and then flinched when Violet’s blue eyes locked onto his. “I meant you _too_ , you know.”

“Noted.”

“Whatever.”

“Is she awake?” Faith asked.

“She is.”

Faith turned to Robert and waved him over. “I’m going to go inside and talk to her. Give me a few?”

“Of course.”

Bruce sat on the edge of the couch as Faith went into Rona’s room, and it wasn’t even a minute later that they’d heard the young girl screech out, “ _Are you fucking kidding me right now?!”_

Robert winced, but Bart just grinned in appreciation. 

“Don’t take that tone of voice with me, kiddo.” Faith snarled out loud enough that they all could hear her. “And don’t forget who you’re talking to. He wants to talk to you, and you owe it to the both of you to try and fix this, if possible. If he acts like a tool, or raises a hand to you? I will _cut_ him at the throat and call it good.”

They all heard Rona laughing, while Robert lifted an eyebrow and queried, “Is she kidding?”

“ **No!”** Everyone in the room replied simultaneously.

“Okay then.” He winced nervously. 

A few moments later, after the voices had abated within Rona’s room, Faith opened the door and waved the man in. As he entered, she gripped his arm tightly and said caustically, “Be _careful_. If you upset her too much, I will end you.”

“I understand, Your Grace.”

“Good.”

Faith watched Rona’s eyes widen when her Father came into view, and the man at least had the good sense to appear contrite. The door closed behind her, and Faith sighed in defeat. 

“Is she going to be okay?” Violet wondered aloud, causing Faith to shrug helplessly. 

“I don’t know, Vi. I wish I could know for sure if this is the right play.”

“She won’t be too angry at you, Mom.”

“Shut it, dork.”

“Sure.”

Bruce held out his hand, and Faith took it, allowing herself to be enveloped into his safe embrace. She watched the clock, and sent out her senses, feeling Buffy doing the same. 

She could sense fear from Rona, as well as hurt and anger. 

From Robert, there was quite of bit of regret, anxiety and anger too. But underneath it all, was relief and love. 

Maybe they’d figure it out. 

Glancing over at Bart Bass, he was staring out the apartment window with his back to everyone, hands in his pockets and stance wide. 

“ _He’s nervous.”_ Faith said to Bruce silently, and her fiancé nodded, and winked too. He thought it was amusing how Bart Bass had become smitten with a woman over twenty years his junior, who could kick his ass, yet leaving him panting. 

Inside the room, another battle was raging. 

“Why did you come?” Rona bit out in fury. “Wanted to make sure that the gun did the job and finished me off?”

“Don’t you ever talk to me that way again, young lady! Whatever my issues are, I would never have wished you harm. In fact, when you’d disappeared, the only comfort I’d had to sustain me was the fact that I knew how formidable you were, and could take care of yourself.”

“Yet, you’d thought I was lying to you?”

“I know, and I’m so sorry, Rona. But can’t you see how difficult that was for me? To accept something so fantastical, yet something so inherently dangerous too. You’re my only child. As a parent, don’t you think it scared the shit out of me, to think that if what Rupert Giles had shared was true? The likelihood of you dying was very likely? How, as your Father? Was I supposed to handle that?”

“So you hit me?”

“Yes. And not a minute of every day that went by since then, have I not felt the sting of utter regret keenly. I tried to find you, but you’d disappeared. The investigation teams I’d sent out, speculated after two years searching for you, that you’d changed your name. Did you?”

“I did.”

“Rona...”

“What?” She bit back. “Was I supposed to be _okay_ with it, **Dad**?” The last word was said with such anger and venom, it made Robert flinch. “ _All my life, I’ve tried to make you proud. I did everything you’d asked me to, and yet? It was never enough! You abandoned me when Mom died! Left me to fend for myself, and never once did you ask me how I was doing? You left me with the nannies, and the tutors, and the instructors._.. **but I just needed my Dad!”** She cried in fury, tears welling in her eyes and everyone out in the living room reacted accordingly, while Bart just stood there staring out the window, his jaw clenching with impotent rage.

Robert swallowed, his expression heavy with remorse, at the hurt showing on his daughter’s face. “I know, and I can’t change it.”

“Are you even the least bit sorry?”

“Of course I am, Rona! Every damn day for the past four years I’ve woken up and wondered where you were, and wished desperately that I could’ve done things differently. Prayed every night to your mother, that she would bring you home to me. To give me a chance to make it right with you!”

“And I’m supposed to _believe_ that?”

“That’s not up to me, Princess.”

Rona blanched at her Father’s childhood nickname for her, which he’d hadn’t used since before her Mother had died. 

She refused to let him see how it affected her.

“Is it true?” He asked warily, and Rona’s brow immediately scrunched with confusion. 

“Is what true?”

“You and Bart Bass?”

Rona quickly averted her gaze, and Robert sighed, before his lips quirked up with amusement. 

“You were always sneaking down and spying on us, when he’d come to visit. Rona? _Really_?”

“What do you want me to _say_?” She gritted out. “I’m a grown woman, and I’m allowed to have sex with whomever I want to. He didn’t say no!”

“No, I don’t imagine he would have.”

“Don’t worry about it, it didn’t mean anything.”

“According to whom, _you_?” Robert chuckled. “He _threatened_ me, Princess. I’ve known Bart Bass for a very long time, and he isn’t the kind of man to make that kind of threat lightly. Nor would he have any such compunction, about following through on it.”

“Whatever.” She sneered. 

“He’s outside.”

“ _What?!”_

“Mmhmm, he flew here, and called me for dinner. Probably right after he’d figured out who you were and what I’d done. That’s not the actions of someone who’s indifferent, Princess.”

“Why do you care, Dad? Hoping this will work out to your advantage?”

“Not at all. I’d just as soon you steer clear of Bart Bass, but now that he’s decided to enter the game, as it were? I don’t imagine he’s going to be put off unless you tell him succinctly, that you don’t want anything to do with him? And if I try and forbid it?”

“Fuck you, Dad.”

Robert chuckled, and then replied knowingly, “ _Exactly_.”

“I don’t know what to think or feel right now.”

“That’s understandable, but all I’m going to ask for now? Is please don’t disappear on me again? Keep in touch with me, and let me help you if you need me to. I’m your Father, Princess. I’m not perfect, far from it, but I do want you to be safe and happy.”

“I’ll think about it. That’s all I can promise right now.”

“Fair enough.”

Robert went to stand up, and took a chance as he leant over his daughter and kissed the crown of her head tenderly. “I do love you, Rona. No matter what’s happened, that’s never going to change. I hope you know that.”

She didn’t respond however, but her amber eyes, so much like his late wife, just stared up at him with a fathomless expression. As he made his way to the door, he asked lowly, “Should I bring anyone else in?”

“No.”

Robert nodded, and opened the door, walking through and closing it behind him. 

When he re-emerged into the living room, he noted that Bart was standing by the window, his back to the room, while everyone else’s gaze was focused solely on him. 

“She’s resting. I’ll be back in the morning?”

Faith nodded. “That’s fine.”

Bart turned around and nodded, not speaking as he’d figured that if Rona had wanted to speak with him, Robert would’ve said so. 

“I’ll take you back to your place, old friend.”

“Of course.”

Robert shook everyone’s hand, and as he was talking with Bruce, Faith went over to Bart and asked, “What should I tell her if she asks?”

Bart smirked and said, “Give her my number and tell her she can call me if she wants to talk. I’ll give her until your wedding, but that’s it. If she doesn’t make the overture, she’ll have to deal with the consequences.”

“And those would be?”

“I’ll hunt her down myself.”

Faith snickered, as she replied sincerely, “I might actually like you, Bass.”

“I promise not to let it go to my head, Your Grace.”

“Fuck you.”

His expression just radiated smug intensity as he bowed his head mockingly at her, and then left with Robert Steward. 

Faith went back into Rona’s room, and noticed the younger girl sniffling, as she wiped her eyes. Going over, she sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for a tissue, handing it to Rona with a sigh. 

“Your Dad is gone. He said he’ll be back in the morning.”

“Fine.”

“Aren’t you going to ask about Bart?”

Rona rolled her eyes, but since she didn’t indicate either way, Faith grabbed Rona’s phone and put Bart’s phone number into the contacts. 

“He told me to tell you, that you’ll have until my wedding to decide what you want. If you don’t contact him, he’ll hunt you down himself. He was quite serious actually.”

“He’s a jerk.”

“He’s a man, Rona. And not the kind of man to be deterred when he wants something. I think while he might enjoy the chase, he’d probably get off more on you leaving him panting in other ways.”

“Arrogant jerk.”

“Yep.”

Rona cracked a grin. “I’m gonna sleep for a while.”

“Five by five. We’re going to find a hotel for the night close by. John and B, are going to crash here with Violet. I’ll see you first thing, okay? Want me to bring you an apple fritter?”

“You’re the best.”

“You know it.” Faith snarked, and then said seriously, “Your Dad’s emotions were rather easy to figure out, kiddo. He was genuine in what he’d said to you, if the remorse and love I was getting the vibe off him, were anything to judge by. He loves you, Rona—and wants a chance to make this right. You might want to consider it.”

“I will.”

“Good night.”

As Faith went to leave, Rona’s voice halted her. 

“We’re still family, right?”

Faith glanced over her shoulder and nodded. “Five by five. We always will be. You, me and Violet.”

“Good.”

Rona watched Faith leave with a warm feeling in her heart. As much as Faith liked to pretend she was a hard ass, with no feelings whatsoever, Rona knew differently. She cared deeply for those she considered family, even if it was a fucked up version of what family was, by other people’s standards. 

Glancing down at her phone, she pulled up Bart’s contact information and sighed. 

It was a closely held secret how much she’d obsessed over Bart Bass as a child. The first time she’d seen him was when she was seven, and had thought he was larger than life. He’d radiated a confidence she’d never seen from anyone else, and her Father and Mother had deferred to him. 

Which didn’t happen often. 

When her Mother had died, Bart had been at the funeral, and she’d watched him from the balcony of her rooms, as he stayed with her Father, and he had seemed so kind and helpful. 

It was then she’d learned that his wife had died in childbirth, his own son back in New York with the nanny. 

A few times a year, he’d come to visit and have dinner with her Father, and she was never included during the times she’d been home from school, but it didn’t stop her from spying on them, listening in to their conversations. It wasn’t until she’d been ready to leave right before high school started, that he’d come to her family home, and she’d been finishing up a piano lesson with her tutor.

He’d walked into the music room, and introduced himself. 

He’d been so nice, polite, and she’d been overwhelmed with how charming he was. His grey eyes had sparkled as they’d talked for well over an hour, and then a blonde woman—who’d looked like a fucking supermodel, had walked into the room, sneered at her and whisked him away. 

It was the next day that Rona had discovered the woman was his new wife. 

And the disappointment she’d felt, was palpable. 

She’d left early for school the following morning, not wanting to stay and witness anymore than she’d had later that same night. 

Four years later, she’d gone off to college, and had seen Bart Bass a sum total of three times in those fours years, and then nothing afterwards, until recently. 

But she’d never forgotten him, nor how much she’d been attracted to him. 

As a young girl it was more the sense of thinking he was like some knight, from one of her fairytales. When she was old enough to know better, it was because she’d thought he was handsome and charming and seemed to genuinely care about her Father.

When she was finally a woman, and had read everything she could about Bart Bass, Rona knew it was because she’d wanted him for herself. Her friend at USC had teased her about it several times, when she’d caught her cutting photos of Bart out of Page Six articles in the New York Times. Tamir, had never understood why she’d subscribed to an east coast paper, until she’d found out her secret. 

She’d called it an unrequited school girl crush, and told Rona to get over it. 

So she’d had for a time. Friends with benefits, experimented, and then the Bringers had come after her. 

Once she’d been disowned, she’d decided to follow her own path and had learned how to enjoy her power when it came to sex. She’d been careful, judicious, and smart. Faith had taught her a few things too. Like never seeing the same person twice. 

Rona had spent some time in New York’s thriving dungeon scene. She’d chosen to go there, because despite everything, there was a part of her that wanted to make New York safer...even if no one knew who she was or why she was doing it. 

Or for _whom_.

It had made her feel closer to Bart, in a fucked up way. 

Then she’d noticed him at Faith’s party and her heart had nearly leapt from her chest, but he didn’t seem to remember her at all. Then weeks ago, she’d caught him checking her out and she’d taken the chance, and he’d surprisingly, had taken the bait. 

And he hadn’t disappointed any of her school girl fantasies in the least. 

Until he’d opened his mouth and made that comment...

...and she’d _bailed_. 

Now she had to wonder, if she’d misunderstood his intentions. 

Glancing over at the clock, her eyes widened when she’d noticed that an hour had gone by, and she’d been obsessing again. 

Maybe Faith was right. Maybe she needed to take the bull by the horns and go for broke. She was a fucking Slayer, for goodness sakes! She could seduce Bart Bass and leave him panting! She’d already done it once. 

But did she want to seem too eager?

Fuck it.

Opening her phone up, she brought up his contact info and before she could second guess herself, she started typing. 

_Faith said you’d stopped by, why?_

It was a moment later her phone dinged and his reply flashed. 

**Who’s this?**

_I’m sorry, I must’ve texted the wrong Rich Man...just ignore it_

It was not even a minute later, another text sounded. 

**Are we playing games right now?**

_You couldn’t handle any of my games, Bass..._

**No?**

_No. Arrogant jerk._

Another minute went by and her phone dinged again...

**Yes, I am. And I think you like that about me. Or you seemed to before I opened my mouth and had you running scared.**

Her gaze narrowed at that. 

_You must have me confused with someone else. I’m not scared of anything._

**Are you sure?**

_Yes._

**Hmmm, how are you feeling really?**

_Is this Psych 101? Are you my shrink now?_

**No. I don’t play those games, Rona. I do play others, which I know you’re aware of. This is not one of those times.**

_And how do I know that’s the truth?_

**Because if I were to play games with you? What do you think might happen to me if this went badly?**

_Besides me kicking your ass?_

**Yes, besides that.**

_Faith would eat you for lunch._

**Exactly. I’d rather not be on the end of either one of your bad sides. Besides, I’d rather be deep inside you, if given a choice.**

Rona felt her face heat up at that, and her nether regions seemed to really like that idea too. 

_What makes you think you’ll be getting another chance, Rich man?_

**Rona? No games here. Okay? So if I were to ask you if this is what you want? What would your answer be?”**

_You’re serious?_

**Yes.**

_So if I were to tell you, that I’ve wanted you for years?_

There was no response for well over a minute, so she wasn’t surprised when her phone rang. 

She answered it immediately.

“Explain.”

So she did, and when she was done, there was another deafening silence before Bart spoke up. 

“Don’t ask for this unless you’re very serious, little girl. Because I’m not the kind of man, to be deterred once he decides he wants something.”

“And you want me?”

“Yes.”

Rona’s heart skipped a beat as she bit her lip in contemplation. 

“Why?”

“Why do I want you?”

“Yes. If this is just because I’m a Slayer, Bass?”

“I won’t lie to you, Rona. I’m very attracted to that part of you. But it’s more than that. I would’ve normally never taken a woman as young as you up on the kind of night we’d shared, regardless of circumstances. However, I’d felt a connection, that I couldn’t explain, and now that I know who you are, it actually makes sense. It was your eyes, Rona. You have your Mother’s eyes. I do remember meeting you all those years ago too, and I’d remembered thinking to myself that you were going to be a force to be reckoned with someday. And I don’t care about how young you are, and I don’t give a fuck if your Father disapproves. _He can kiss my ass.”_

Rona giggled in reply, and Bart had to admit, she sounded adorable when she let go like that. 

“I told him he could fuck off too, if he tried to forbid it.”

Bart’s deep husky laughter, filled Rona’s chest with pride. 

“I don’t doubt it. Whether or not you try and fix things with Robert, that’s on you. However, he knows if he ever raises a hand to you again, I will ruin him, happily.”

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Can I think about it?” She deferred, not sure she believed his declaration, even if it did make her panties wet.

“You’ll have until the wedding, Rona. Eight days. Whatever you decide, I’ll respect it. Of that, you have my word, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Get some rest. I’ll be heading back to New York tomorrow. I won’t pressure you, but you can call me or text me if you ever want to talk.”

“Fair enough.”

“And Rona?”

“Yes?”

“Sweet dreams, little girl.”

The phone went dead and Rona sat back and closed her eyes, even as her heart thumped like a hummingbird within her chest. 

Who was she trying to kid?

She _wanted_ him. She would probably always want him. 

And now that she knew he wanted her too?

“Fuck!” She whispered out in agony. 

Then her phone dinged. 

She grabbed it and smiled like a loon at the text...

**If your answer is yes, then expect that I’ll be absconding with you for a while.**

_Oh? I’d thought you were going to give me eight days?_

**Does that sound like something I’d agree to?**

_No, it doesn’t at all._

**Smart girl. For what it’s worth? That night in New York was the best night of my life.**

Rona’s face broke out into the widest grin of her existence, as she texted back...

_Me too._

**Don’t keep me waiting, Rona.**

_I thought you liked the chase, Mr. Bass?_

**I prefer the capture part better.**

_You know, you still never answered my question?_

**Which was?**

_Are you willing to bottom from the top?_

**Shit. What did you have in mind?**

_Are you familiar with The Purple Lair?_

**Yes, I’ve heard of it, why?**

_Ever been there?_

**No. Why, have you?**

_Yes. Many times._

**Explain, Rona.**

_You’re a smart man, Mr. Bass. I didn’t think I’d need to draw you a picture, do I?_

**Rona? You’d said you were safe?**

_Silly man. Masks, wigs—hide people’s identity’s quite well. And yes, I’m perfectly safe, clean and smart._

There was a lengthy pause, and Rona had to wonder if she’d gone too far, but when her phone dinged, she let out a happy little squeal of delight. 

**Color me intrigued, little girl.**

_Would you like to play, Mr. Bass?_

**Yes, I do think I would**

_Good to know_

**Tease**

_We’ll see_

**Yes we will. Get some rest, and heal. I do know you have rather advanced healing, so I’ll try not to worry too much. I’ll call you tomorrow?**

_Promise?_

**Most definitely. Sweet dreams, Rona.**

_Goodnight, Mr. Bass_

**It is now. The only thing that would make it better is having you here with me, in my bed. Something to look forward to...**

_I haven’t said yes..._

There was another heartbeat of silence until her phone dinged one final time...

**You will**


	67. The Wedding, Reception, and Bart Bass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Faith join their lives together, while Bart decides to confront Rona and get some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit material so skip if it’s not your thing...

The ensuing days went by in a blur, and before everyone knew it, _the day_ had arrived. Many noted names descended on Gotham City and word quickly spread that Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s Prince and the Romanov Grand Duchess were set to wed in a small intimate ceremony, only to be attended by those closest to the couple. 

Invitations had gone out, and Roger had fielded many calls from around the world, in regards to where to send gifts. The couple had decided to ask for donations to two charities, in lieu of gifts. St. Swithin’s in Boston and Gotham, as well as the Romanov Foundation in London. 

Roger had also mentioned that it would be necessary to invite at least a handful of representatives from some of the noted Royal lines in Europe. 

So Faith had. 

She was surprised, when those who’d been sent an invitation, had responded back in the affirmative. 

“Is it true that the Prince of Wales is coming with his Son’s?” Violet asked, as they were helping Faith get ready for the ceremony, which was being held that evening, at the Gotham Botanical Gardens. It was just adjacent Russian Orthodox Church of Gotham. It was the best compromise they could come to. Since Bruce wasn’t baptized into the church, it couldn’t be held there, technically. So they’d worked it out, where the aisle that she’d be walking down would wind through the gardens and then end at the gate of the property where the church was located. The minister was Russian Orthodox, who had agreed to marry them. 

“Yes.” Faith sighed as she took in her gown. It was a compromise of style in a manner of speaking. The bodice of her dress was fitted, intricate and beaded—but the skirt was chiffon, and flowing, slightly see through and had minimal train. 

“Bruce is going to lose his shit when he sees you in that dress.” Rona piped up with a wink. 

Since her ordeal, she’d healed rather well, as only a slight scar remained from where the bullet had entered. In the last eight days, she’d been happier than Faith had ever seen her. Her amber eyes sparkled, and both Faith and Violet knew what the what was. 

Rona was smitten with Bart Bass, and if his saucy texts were any indication?

The man was just as affected too.

“Who else is coming?” Buffy asked, fiddling with her makeup. 

“Uhm, Vladim will be here, along with Yevgeny and Ivan. Zarina, Natalia, and Natalia’s son and daughter, whom I haven’t met yet. I extended invites to my Romanov cousins on the west coast, and received notice they’ll be here, so that’s something, I suppose. Roger felt it was only right to include them. Something about not showing favoritism. Those from New York, and Zac’s coming with John, right?”

“He is. He’s really excited to meet everyone.”

“Cool.” Faith nodded happily. 

“When are you leaving on your honeymoon?” Rona quipped with a knowing smirk. 

“Tomorrow night. There’ll be a family family brunch tomorrow at eleven, at Bruce’s Penthouse.”

“Cock blocked by the family, huh?” Rona snickered, causing a round of laughter in the room. All the junior brigade were in Faith’s room, at her old apartment in Gotham Terrace, as Bruce was getting ready at the Penthouse, and she didn’t want to take a chance of running into him. Lucius and Alfred were there, helping him get things ready. Both men would be standing with him today, as would Rona and Violet for her. 

“What’s in the box?” Buffy asked curiously, “I forgot to ask.”

“It’s from Zarina, and its my something borrowed and old.”

“Oh?”

“It’s her Mother’s wedding veil. One of the few things that made it out of Russia with her. She wanted me to wear it today.”

“Wow!” The girls chimed in. 

“Do you have your other traditional things?” Amanda queried with interest and Faith nodded, holding up a simple necklace that Rona and Violet had gifted her. 

“This is my something new.”

“And blue?” Eve grinned. 

Faith smiled and opened her dresser drawer, and pulled out a box and handed it to the younger girl. 

“From Bruce.”

Eve opened it up and said with awe, “Holy fuck, are those real?”

Faith snickered, as all the girls rushed over and gaped at the exquisite bracelet of blue oval diamonds.

“Are those diamonds?” Rona whistled in appreciation. 

“Yes.” Faith winked at her friend. 

“Holy shit, Faith? That bracelet has to be worth ten million easily!” Rona lifted it up and eyed it critically. 

“Apparently my soon to be husband, has more money than common sense.”  
  
“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Faith?” Buffy snarked. “Settling down? One man for the _rest of your life?”_

“Shut it, B. Yes, I’m more than ready. I love the jerk, so much. Can’t imagine life without him at all. I know I should feel more nervous than I am, but frankly? I just want to get this over with so I can take him home and have my wicked way with him.”

“You two, are too much.” Willow griped with a smug grin. “But I’m happy for you, Faith.”

“Thanks, Red.”

“Not a problem. What time is Angel supposed to be here?”

“After the sun goes down. The ceremony starts at seven-thirty and the reception at nine. There was initially some push back at the timing, but when I’d explained that my Mother had always wanted an evening wedding for me, no one could complain about it.”

“Was that true?” Nikki asked, and Faith shrugged, but winked and they all laughed again. 

Two hours later, the girls started to head to the church in the cars that were waiting for them. At six-thirty, a knock sounded on her bedroom door and when she opened it, Angel was standing there dressed in his tuxedo, looking very dapper. 

“Hey.”

Angel grinned as he took Faith in. 

“You’re a _vision_.”

“Thanks, Bro.”

“Not a problem.” He sauntered in and nodded at Violet, Rona and Buffy. “I have a gift for you. It’s your something old.”

“What?” Faith sputtered. “But Zarina gave me that.”

“She gave you, your something borrowed. This however, is your something old.”

He handed Faith a small box he’d pulled out of his jacket and she gazed up at him in confusion. 

“Bruce told me about the safety deposit box in Harrods. I was able, at his insistence, to gain access and bring the items home. He wanted to surprise you with it, because we both felt you going there might cause too much speculation. You can thank him later.”

Faith swallowed as she took the small box, and opened it. Her eyes widening in wonder at the ring inside. 

“According to the letter with the box, this was Anastasia’s family ring. Given to her by her Father at her coming of age within the family.”

Sitting down on the edge of her old bed, she stared at the beautiful ring. It was yellow gold with a deep blue guilloche enamel that housed the emblem of the Imperial Signet of the Romanov Family.

“This is stunning.” Faith whispered in awe. 

“I think she’d want you to wear this today.” Angel said simply and took it out of the box, placing it on Faith’s right index finger, where it fit perfectly. 

“Thank you for getting this for me.” Faith whispered emotively. “I had wondered how I was going to go about doing it.”

“There’s more, when you’re ready to look at it. Not much, mind you. But a couple of things that were obviously sentimental to your Great-Grandmother.”

Faith nodded, as she swallowed heavily, trying to ignore the weighted stares of her fellow Slayers. A stray tear did manage to fall however, as she wiped at it angrily and griped out, “Fucking hormones.”

“No swearing, idiot.” Rona chastised. “At least, not today. You have to play nice with the fancy pants of the world. No time for using colorful metaphors, no matter how much you’d want to.”

“Buzzkill!”

They all laughed. Rona and Violet then patted Faith on her shoulder, as they left with Buffy to take their car over to the ceremony. 

“Are you ready for this?”

“Surprisingly, I am!”

“I’m really happy for you, Faith.”

Standing up, she kissed Angel on his cheek. “I know. I’m not sure I’ve ever said it, but _thank you_ , for not giving up on me.”

Angel cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead with reverence. “You’re welcome, Faith. For the record, I’ll _never_ give up on you. We’re stuck with each other, right?”

“Five by five.”

Glancing over at the time, Angel nodded. “Time to put on your veil.”

Faith took the intricate veil from the box, and Angel helped her secure it properly. When he stood back, he winked. 

“Bruce Wayne is a very lucky man.”

“I’ll make sure I tell him that you’d said so.”

When they got into the garage, from the inside of the apartment complex, a brand new Bentley Arnage was waiting for them. 

“Bulletproofed and tinted for privacy.” Angel nodded to the driver, one of his most trusted from Wolfram and Hart. 

“Your idea?”

“Bruce might’ve had some input too, but this is my wedding gift to you both. You’ll need a proper car to get around town in.”

“Not ostentatious at all.”

“Bitch.”

“Whatever. You love me anyway.”

“I do.”

The ride to the ceremony was filled with a comfortable silence, and as soon as they pulled up into the drop off area, the hundreds of reporters and paparazzi were there, with their fucking cameras jockeying for the best shot. 

Strangely, there were thousands of well wishers too, surrounding the area. 

“Take the car to the secondary spot, Mike.”

“Of course, Sir.”

The car moved into a side entrance that was completely secure. 

“Your idea?”

“Yes. I don’t want to not show up on any cameras nor photos. Less explaining I have to do, right?”

“Good thinking.”

“What about wedding photos?”

“None will be taken until you’re with Bruce. The photographer is from Wolfram and Hart.”

“Always thinking ahead.”

“That’s why I get paid the big bucks.” 

When the driver opened to door for Angel, he slid out and then came around to open to door for Faith. As she emerged, those who were standing there, gaped at her in wonder. 

“Are you ready?”

“So ready.” She beamed brightly. 

Angel nodded to one of the attendants, who left to let the Officiant and Bruce know that Faith had arrived. A few moments later, John appeared and nodded politely to Angel, before his gaze settled on Faith and he smirked. 

“Bruce is a lucky man.”

“Thanks, John.”

“I just wanted to offer my congratulations, but give you the option to bail if you’d really wanted to.”

Faith threw back her head and laughed heartily. Both John and Angel joined in. 

“Nice try, idiot. But no, I’m good.”

“Fair enough. See you both in a few.”

Faith moved into the staging area, where Blair was waiting with her sister. As she took in all the beautiful flowers, Faith smiled widely. 

“You’re amazing, Waldorf.”

“Eh, I do okay. You look like a stone cold goddess. If Bruce doesn’t end up gaping at you like a lovesick fool, I’m going to lose $1000 dollars to my sister, who seems to think he’s much more controlled than that.”

“I guess we’ll have to see.” Faith smirked. “But really, thank you for everything?”

Blair kissed her cheeks in welcome. “It’s fine. What are friends for, right?”

“Right.”

“Knock him dead, Faith.”

The older woman snickered, but watched fondly as Blair and her sister left to head back to their seats. 

Then Rona and Violet showed, and the former had her bouquet. 

“Bruce is chomping at the bit. He looks _amazing_.”

“Nice, Rona. Don’t you have your own boy toy to woo?”

“Later.” She purred, and both Faith and Violet just shook their head’s at their friend, who was beaming with happiness. 

Lucius and Alfred arrived shortly after and then the music started. 

Violet took Lucius arm, and allowed him to lead her down the aisle. The dress she was wearing was a deep red with golden braided beading, Roberto Cavali gown, that he’d designed especially for Faith’s bridesmaids today. Rona, had the same dress for the most part, except where Violet’s was a single shouldered gown, Rona’s had a haltered style that was more in keeping with her figure. 

Then Canon in D, floated through the area, and Faith took a deep breath and nodded once. Angel grinned as he led her down the side aisle and as soon as she turned to face her husband to be. The entirety of their guests, stood as one. But that was secondary to the utterly gobsmacked expression on Bruce’s face as a smile, unlike any she’d ever seen, broke out across his handsome features—causing her breath to hitch at how achingly beautiful he was...

...and then all she could think was Blair was right. 

Bruce wasn’t holding anything back.

Her answering smile couldn’t be helped either. 

Their eyes stayed locked, so she didn’t notice the nods of approval, nor the answering happy looks from those in attendance. When she reached him, his gaze raked over her form with masculine pride, as he whispered heatedly, “ _You’re so exquisite.”_

Faith blushed deeply, but her eyes shined with happy tears. 

Angel handed Faith over to her future, and kissed her cheek in parting. 

“Take good care of her, Bruce.”

“I will.”

The vampire nodded and went to sit down next to Buffy and John. 

“Dearly beloved, it is my esteemed honor, to be here this evening to bear witness to the joining of Bruce Thomas Wayne and Faith Nickolayevna Lehane in Holy Matrimony. Of all the traditions since the beginning of time, marriage is the one that bonds the heart and soul of two people into one single unit. It is the purpose of life, to find one’s missing half, and on this night? We celebrate that Bruce and Faith have found that gift with each other.”

Bruce winked, while Faith just smiled like a loon, her heart bursting with so much love and light. 

“As you both take these first steps into your future, it is with the blessing of all those in attendance. It is with the blessings of those who have come before you, and it will live long after you both have left this life. So I ask now, is there any one here, who feels just cause, why Bruce and Faith should not be wedded on this night?”

When no one dared to speak, Faith snickered while Bruce just winked again. 

“Bruce Thomas Wayne—do you promise from now until the end of your life—to love and honor, Faith? Do you promise to cherish her, be devoted to her, to protect and keep her, to sustain and remain faithful to only her?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Faith Nickolayevna Lehane—do you promise from now until the end of you life—to love and honor, Bruce? Do you promise to cherish him, be devoted to him, to protect and keep him, to sustain and remain faithful to only him?”

“I do.”

Bruce turned and Alfred handed him the wedding band.

Rona did the same for Faith.

“A ring is a symbol of the never ending bond of Commitment, Fidelity, Trust and Love.”

Then the Minister spoke a blessing in Russian, and both Faith and Bruce smiled softly to each other, before placing the rings on each other’s left ring fingers with the words...

_With this ring, I thee Wed..._

“What God has gifted and the Powers have blessed, may no force of man nor might seek to tear it asunder. I now pronounce you, Man and Wife. You may kiss your Bride, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce nodded, grinned and then lifted Faith’s veil to the side, before taking full advantage of his new wife, who clung to him happily. When they finally broke apart, both had tears falling down their cheeks. 

“Esteemed guests! I am proud to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Bruce Wayne.”

Everyone stood and cheered, and Faith gushed happily as she kissed both Rona and Violet, who were sniffling back tears too. Alfred was smiling with so much enthusiasm, she kissed his cheek and murmured her thanks for taking such good care of Bruce over the years. She gave Lucius a similar thank you for different reasons, as she winked at him. 

The rest of the ceremony was a blur, as she kissed, hugged and allowed herself to bask in the moment. When Bruce led her down the aisle, to where their new Bentley was waiting for them to ferry them to the reception, Faith had to admit, the ceremony had been perfect. 

Then they were finally alone in their car, and Bruce wasted no time swooping down and kissing his new bride with such passion, Faith literally thought her heart was going to burst in two. As he broke the kiss, finally, Bruce cupped her cheeks and said with such emotion, Faith felt more tears fall trickle down her cheeks. 

“I love you so much, Gorgeous. Thank you for agreeing to be mine.”

“I love you too, Krasivyy. And I will always be yours.”

He kissed her again, and again, and Faith was fairly certain her makeup was ruined, but she simply didn’t give a fuck. 

Pulling up to the Ocelot, the driver drove around the back alleyway, where security was ushering in the guests away from the prying eyes of the news reporters who’d taken to stalking outside the restaurant. 

When they entered, Rona and Violet were already there and ushered Faith into a room that they’d designated the change room. Gone was the wedding gown, and in its place was a simple, champagne colored silk dress. Haltered style, fitted and flowing to the ground. Her veil was removed, and placed into a keepsake box to return to Zarina, and her hair was redone into her normal flowing locks...

...her makeup had to be reapplied too...thankfully, she’d remembered to wear waterproof mascara. 

When she re-emerged, Bruce was waiting for her. He pulled her into his embrace and gave her a passionate kiss. 

“Hello, Wife.”

“Hello to you, Husband.”

“You look good enough to to _eat_.” He growled lowly into her ear. 

“Later.” 

Bruce winked and led Faith into the restaurant, where everyone was waiting. The applause and cheers, were welcomed with heartfelt greetings to each of their guests. This was done in lieu of a formal reception line, which Faith had vetoed as outdated and gauche. 

The conversations were lively and at one point, Faith made her way over to the Princes of Wales with Blair and Serena, and made sure to introduce them both. 

Based on their reactions, Faith was fairly certain both young men were more than impressed. 

She’d spoken with Vladim, Yevgeny and Ivan at length. Plans were firmed up for the upcoming visit to Russia in late October, and Vlad had assured her, that all her guests would be welcomed with open arms. He seemed to be relishing in the possibilities for business opportunities, as he’d also spoken with Bart, John and Bruce at length. 

The food caterers wandered around the room with small appetizers, while the buffett tables had an assortment of varied Russian delicacies, Zakuski style.

Champagne, sparkling wine and vodka made the rounds. 

Faith however, had her own glass of sparkling water mixed with OJ...

There was a bar set up with coffee’s and teas for those who’d preferred warmer fare. 

And in the far back, was the wedding cake...a beautiful medovik cake in several tiers. 

When the time came to cut the cake, Faith had been more than ready. As much as she’d wanted to smash the cake into Bruce’s face, a stern reproving head shake from Roger let her know now wasn’t the time...

By the twinkle of merriment in Bruce’s hazel eyes, he suspected that he’d dodged a metaphorical bullet...

Then the dancing began, and the first song of the night saw Bruce and Faith out on the floor dancing to _Etta James At Last_ as they gazed lovingly into each other eyes—the rest of the room faded from view. It was clear to all those in attendance, that the bride and groom were desperately in love. 

The next dance saw Angel coming to take Faith, while Bruce asked Rona for a turn about the room. He made a point to dance with each of the junior brigade, and eventually introduced Violet to Zac Daggett early on in the evening. 

John and Buffy were off in a corner somewhere, making out. It was obvious that whilst they might be enjoying the festivities, they were enjoying each other more. 

Bart however, spent the early part of the evening trying to get Rona to dance with him, but like the woman she was, he hadn’t been able to pin her down. 

As the clock reached eleven thirty, Faith was just finishing up a dance with Bart, when his son came over and bowed in greeting. 

“Might I have the next dance, Your Grace?”

Faith smiled at Bart and took Chuck’s proffered hand, taking a twirl about the room. 

For a few seconds, Faith took in the young Bass Heir. He was polished, refined, and his expression was at best, a mixture of bored affectation. He seemed uninterested, but Faith knew that was a front. The kid was more intuitive than he let on, especially if he’d been able to suss out Bruce’s alter ego.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Bass?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I wanted to thank you for including me in your special day.”

“You’re welcome. Your Father has become _almost_ a friend.”

Chuck nodded, and his lips lifted slightly, but to his credit he didn’t give anything away. 

She could sense his gaze wandering over to the far side of the room, and sure enough...Blair was sitting down with Serena, Prince William and Harry, as they were all talking animatedly.

“Blair looks beautiful tonight.” Faith parlayed slyly, and Chuck glanced down, his silver-blue gaze was fathomless as he replied sincerely, “Blair always looks exceptional.” He then continued on after a moment, “Is that your doing?”

“You mean, Prince William?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps.” Faith prevaricated. “Blair seems to think you don’t value her as you should, now why is that, do you suppose?”

Faith felt, more than heard Chuck sigh, but he didn’t disappoint when he responded with, “Because that is what she needs to see right now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Blair is a force of nature...smart, cunning, beautiful and ambitious to a fault. She feels I don’t value her as I should, but she is wrong.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’ve known since I was fifteen that one day, I’d marry Blair. There has never been anyone else and there never will be. However, Blair needs this time to discover who she is for _herself_. The world, is her oyster, and she needs to spread her wings and figure out how to play the game for her own sake, and not as an appendage to me. So when that day comes, that she returns to me of her own free will, she will never have to second guess whether she’s my equal, because she will not only have earned that right? But forced everyone else who matters, to see it for themselves. What kind of man would I be, to clip the wings of the woman I love, for my own selfish gain?”

Faith was floored. Bart hadn’t been boasting nor lying when he’d said that his son was brilliant. 

“I think I’ve underestimated you, Mr. Bass.”

“Most people do.”

“I suspect your Father has shared a few truths, yes?”

He nodded. “My Father doesn’t keep secrets from me, Your Grace.”

Faith tried to get a read off the kid, but he was good. His emotional control was impressive. 

“You’re quite good at controlling your emotions.”

“When faced with a predator, it’s unwise to show weakness, Your Grace. I would’ve thought you’d learned that little lesson well?”

“Yes. Still impressive though.”

“Thank you.” Chuck replied evenly, but his eyes softened as he took in Blair, who was now looking their way. “And _thank you_ , for inviting Blair into your circle. I’ve come to understand that Mr. Wayne has indicated he might be looking to have Blair come and work for him after graduation?”

“Bruce has mentioned it.”

“I think it’ll be good for her. She loves Paris.”

“And you?”

“I have my own plans to keep,” Chuck offered lowly, “It’s up to me to prepare myself for the time when Blair comes back to me. To make sure she needs nor wants for nothing. To be what she needs me to be.”

“Then I wish you all the luck in the world, Mr. Bass.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” The music ended and Bruce was standing there with a smile on his face. “And thank you for the dance.”

“Of course.”

Faith watched Chuck walk away, a contemplative look marring her pretty features. 

“What?” Bruce asked. 

“He really loves Blair. I think that Bart didn’t do his kid justice. He’s quite intuitive and formidable.”

“I would imagine he couldn’t be anything but, to have captured Blair’s heart.”

“The reception turned out wonderful. Blair did a great job.”

“She did. I’ve told her that I have an internship for her in Paris this next summer, if she’s interested. She was absolutely thrilled.”

“Chuck seemed to think she would be.”

“Have you seen Bart and Rona?”

Faith glanced around and grinned wickedly. 

“Nope, I don’t as a matter of fact.”

Bruce shook his head and checked the time on his new watch, that Faith had given him for their wedding day. 

“I never got to say thank you for my wedding gift. It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad. I know your Mom and Dad couldn’t be here, but I’d thought this might be a way to have them here in spirit.”

“I love you, Gorgeous.”

“I love you, too.”

Elsewhere in the restaurant, Bart had finally managed to track Rona down. 

“Are you _avoiding_ me?”

“No.” Rona shook her head. “Just didn’t think it was a good idea to distract from the bride and groom’s day. That’s kind of déclassé, don’t you agree?”

“Perhaps.” He demurred, as he sauntered over towards her like a fucking predator. “Have you made your decision?”

“Was I supposed to do that _tonight_?”

Bart huffed. “No games, beautiful girl. I’m not in the mood. I’d like an answer.”

“You’re bossy.”

“And?” He moved closer to her and smiled, all teeth—and his grey eyes sparkled with intent. 

“And I don’t take too kindly to demands.” Rona bit out, as she made to walk past him, but Bart gripped her arm and the next thing she new, she was pushed up against the wall with Bart’s hands on her hips and his lips skimming tantalizingly on that fucking spot on her neck he’d found back in New York. 

“No demands.” He hissed, even as his hands went to cup her backside, and he squeezed it purposefully. “No games, Rona. Tell me? Do you want this?”

Her eyes fluttered shut, as she tried desperately to get her body back under control, but this man, was the only man who’d ever made her blood boil with something akin to hunger. 

“What do you want?” She whispered, her voice on edge. 

Grey eyes lifted and a wicked smirk curved around those fucking lips, that she...

No! She wasn’t going to think that way! 

“You know what I want.”

“No I don’t, Bass. I know you want to fuck me, but beyond that? I have no clue what’s in that _diabolical_ mind of yours.”

Bart chuckled deeply, his expression alight with respect and admiration. 

“You’re so unexpected, my beautiful girl. Fine. I’m reserving the right to renegotiate our deal.”

“I don’t understand.” Rona frowned. “What deal are we talking about?”

“The no kissing part of that deal.”

Her eyes widened in shock, as she shook her head in the negative. 

“I don’t kiss.”

“Why?”

She clamped her mouth shut and watched as Bart tilted his head at her questioningly. 

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

“No.” 

“Not even out of curiosity?”

“ _No_.”

He blanched, taking a slight step back as he cupped her cheeks tenderly. 

“Why not? Haven’t you ever been curious to know what it feels like?”

She averted her eyes, but he wasn’t about to let this one go. 

“Rona? Why?”

Her amber eyes locked with his and she bit out angrily, “You _know_ why, Bass. Stop being a fucking _ass_.”

Confusion changed to understanding which morphed into a pleased smirk, and before she had a chance to react...

Bart Bass swooped down and took ownership of her mouth with his...

And it was everything she’d ever fantasized as a teenage girl, alone in her bedroom or dorm room as she’d gotten herself off. Wondering if Bart Bass would be as all-consuming, earth-shattering and possessive as he’d looked...

_And fuck it all..._

It was so much more than she’d ever imagined it being. 

One hand held her in place as he ravished her mouth, while the other traced her body, moving with purpose over the side of her breast and down to her ass. He cupped her right ass cheek with his left hand, then lifted her leg and opened her core up to him, so he could settle his erection into her body...

The second she felt him hard and long against her, she moaned and he deepened the kiss instantly. 

Fuck! His tongue was twirling and sucking on hers, as if they’d done this dance their entire lives...

And before she knew what she was doing, Rona took her hands, gripped the back of his neck with vigor, even as her right leg coiled around him and into her core tighter...

The scent, touch and feel of him was all too much, and before she knew it?

Her body exploded as she moaned again out desperately in submission, causing him to snarl in desire, his left hand slapping against the wall near her head. 

He eventually pulled back slightly, and Rona could see through hooded lids, that Bart was holding himself together by the thinnest of threads. 

“Did you just?”

“ _Yes_.”

The feral growl that erupted from his mouth, caused her to shiver again and that was all it took. He disengaged, took her hand and led her down the hallway, her heels click-clacking on the tiled floor. 

“Bart? Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere where I can fuck you.”

“But...”

He turned and put up a single finger in warning. 

“If not right now, then come back to my hotel with me.”

“Are you asking?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He reached for her again, and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her up into his hardened body, that felt better than anything had a right to. 

“Tell me you want me?”

“I do.”

“Tell me, you’re mine?”

“Bart...”

“No games, Rona. Tell me. Do you want this with me?”

“And what is _this_?”

He grinned and then leant down, whispering deeply into her ear, “It’s whatever you want this to be.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Rona...”

She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re offering, Bass. And you sure as hell don’t know what I want.”

“Oh?” He smirked again. “I’m pretty sure I can guess, little girl. You want me in your bed, and only me. Just like you want to be the only one in my bed. So exclusive, yes?”

When she didn’t speak up right away, Bart chuckled and forged on. “ _I can do exclusive._ I can, and will—let you have your wicked way with me, because something tells me I’m going to enjoy it immensely. I want to see you in your element, Rona. I want to feel your fire and get consumed by you. I do know, how you hated growing up with the burden of expectation, but I also know there was a part of you that liked proving all those who’d underestimated you wrong. Do you know what I remember from that day, so long ago?”

“No, what?” She whispered out, unsure and frankly, scared. 

“I remember how you’d challenged me, asked me questions and seemed to be genuinely interested in what I did.”

“And?”

“And I don’t think I’d smiled that much, in a very long time.”

“What about my calling?” Rona challenged. “Are you going to freak the first time something goes to shit? Are you going to _demand_ that I walk away from my sisters?”

“No, Rona. I would never ask that of you. Your calling, is a gift from the Powers and it’s as much of a part of you as the Rona who loved to talk about margin calls, and mergers. The one who’d played _Moonlight Sonata_ on the piano for me, and the one who’d rolled her eyes in disgust at my sorry excuse for an ex-wife, whispering under her breath as we left the room...”

“ _Phony piece of trash._ ” She finished sarcastically.

Bart snorted, and nodded. “I’d almost forgotten about that, but the other night when I was talking with your Father? I hadn’t remembered that I’d shared that particular story with him. That you’d called Misty that, when I’d left the music room that day. We’d had a good laugh about it then, and it was just as humorous now.”

“I didn’t know you’d heard me.”

“I did. You were adorable.”

She bit her lip and averted her gaze again. 

“Would you really have ruined my Father?”

“For hurting you?”

She nodded. 

“Without hesitation, little girl. He’d have never seen me coming.”

Apparently, that was finally the right thing to say, because she launched herself into his arms, and kissed him viciously...his surprised groan, turning into something desperate rather quickly. 

When she shuddered and came for a second time several minutes later, from just his mouth and touch alone, Bart Bass decided right then and there—that he wasn’t going to waste another second.

“My hotel, now!”

“So, bossy.”

His grin was positively sinful, and somehow they’d managed to sneak out, but not before she’d texted Faith and Violet with a single word...

_Bouncing..._

When they got into Bart’s limo, Rona’s phone dinged...

It was Faith...

_**Have fun and stay safe...** _

_Thanks, Mom_

_**Gods, you’re the worst. See you in a few weeks.** _

_Five by five_

The entire ride back to the hotel, Bart spent kissing her senseless. Her silk thong was ruined, completely soaked, but he just seemed to be more interested in her very visceral reaction to his attentions. 

He’d made her come twice more, as her body seemed to have a mind of its own when it came to him.

Once in his hotel room, they didn’t even make it to the bed. Bart slammed her up against the wall just inside the door, lifting up the skirt of her gown with his probing hands. The second they came in contact with her dripping cunt, he hissed again. 

“Such a needy, greedy girl.” He growled, going down on his knees and sliding very damp, possibly ruined panties down her lithe legs. 

Once removed, Bart placed them to his nose and inhaled deeply, and the whimper that escaped from between her lips, was a foreign sound that Rona was fairly certain she’d never made before. 

“So good.” He groaned, his grey eyes nearly black as he gazed up at her. “I think I’ll be keeping these.”

Chest heaving, Rona bit her lip in anticipation, as strong hands started to caress her legs, slide them apart so he could fit in between them. When he stood back up, he turned her around, unhooking her haltered bodice and Rona watched it pool to the floor. She then heard the telltale sound of Bart’s belt being undone, slacks and other clothes being dropped to the floor in haste, before she felt his hands pull her ass cheeks apart...

...and then he dick was sliding through her wet folds, and the feel him after weeks of reminiscing about their night together, caused Rona to whisper out a strained, “ _Please_.”

“With pleasure.”

And then he was pushing himself inside of her, and the guttural sounds that came from her mouth were borderline shameful. 

Rona didn’t think she’d ever sounded so eager, needful and desperate in her entire life as Bart Bass pounded into her like a man possessed. 

It was her greatest fantasy come true!

His left hand had worked its way around her body, up through her breasts and was holding her neck as he showed no quarter. His right hand, was working her clit perfectly, like he’d done it for years. 

The sounds of how sinfully wet she was, should’ve made Rona feel embarrassed, but Bart’s filthy words into her ear, let her know just how turned on he was by her very obvious reaction to him. 

“Such a beautiful girl,” he purred, as he continued to fuck her relentlessly, “so ready and eager for me. My perfect girl.”

“Bart...”

“Yes!” He hissed deeply, pulling her even tighter into his body. “Fuck, you’re begging for it. So wet and tight. Made for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes... _yes_!”

“Who do you belong to, my sweet girl?”

“You... _only you_...please!”

His deep groan of satisfaction, had her trembling as her body prepared to detonate. 

“That’s it...I can feel it coming. Are you going to let go for me, my beautiful girl? Let me feel your juices gushing down my dick?”

“Oh, Yes!” She sobbed and then he bit that one spot on her neck, causing her entire body to convulse in rapture as she screamed out his name. 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuuuuck_...”

His snarl of desire preceded his own blinding orgasm, as he roared her name—his body clamping down into hers with so much force, her orgasm seemed to go on endlessly as his teeth gnawed possessively into her flesh. 

He then cupped his hand under her chin, to tilt her head to the side and kissed her deeply, her immediate response had her body shivering again as she returned the kiss with abandon. 

When the kiss eventually broke, Rona’s amber eyes were glowing with satisfaction as they locked with stormy grey and Bart smirked in triumph—his fingers continuing to pet her with intent. 

“I’m never letting you go, my beautiful girl. You do know that, right?”

“Bart...”

“Shhh, no more talking tonight. In the morning we can figure it out, okay? But for tonight, I want to lose myself in you completely, if that works for you.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He pulled out carefully, turned her and lifted her up into his arms, taking her over to the bed where they spent the rest of the night indulging in each other. When the first rays of morning filtered throughout the room, Rona snuggled into Bart’s arms and purred with heavy satisfaction. 

“Sleep, my perfect girl.”

“M’Kay.”


	68. May-December Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart discovers just how brilliant Rona is as well as realizing just how deeply she’s always cared about him.

It was later the same morning, when Rona finally awoke to Bart spooned around her and she smiled to herself. Last night had been even better than the time before. They’d fucked at least five times, and the last time had been the best experience of her life. She’d come three times before he’d finally given in and come undone himself. 

His control and stamina were quite impressive. 

His words however, kept replaying on an endless loop within her mind. He’d said he wasn’t letting her go, and he’d been so serious when he’d spoken those words, that she’d felt her heart slam into her chest. Of all the things that she’d wished for as a young woman, the only one she’d ever desperately wanted was to hear Bart say those words...

...well, perhaps not those _exact_ words...

But she’d instinctively known, even as a fourteen-year-old that Bart Bass didn’t throw the word love around willy-nilly. He was tough and driven and unlike any man she’d ever known. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a softer side, she’d seen it. However, that wasn’t how he went about his life, nor how he got to where he was at by allowing just anyone, to see that side of him. 

Her soft sigh must’ve woken him, because she felt him move against her and she purred in satisfaction. His morning wood was hard, ready and eager to play. 

“Mmm, good morning.” He whispered into her shoulder, before kissing and nibbling on her scented flesh. “What perfume do you wear? It’s _divine_.”

Rona chuckled, as she replied impishly, “J’adore.”

“Dior, yes?”

“Mmhmm.”

“It’s perfect, like you.” His deepened voice rumbled. His hands were now, moving with purpose over her body. “Can I take advantage of you, this morning?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, Mr. Bass.”

His deep laughter, caused goosebumps to raise on her arms, but he lifted her leg, settled it over his outer one and thrust home. 

“Fuck, this is nirvana.”

“ _Mmmhmmm_.”

Her hand gripped onto the back of his neck and held on as Bart took charge. 

“Is this you topping from the bottom?” Rona teased, and Bart grunted, as he pushed into her harder, causing her breath to hitch out on a stunted deep moan.

“Maybe. But I’d like to think of it as a mutually beneficial understanding. You let me control the ride when it suits you, and I’ll let you take charge of me when it doesn’t.”

“Fair deal.” 

When she arched and came, her cunt squeezing him like a vice, Bart groaned her name as he too, let go...his seed filling her up perfectly. 

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of that.” He hummed out deeply, his lower half still pulsating into her body until he was spent. 

“You have amazing stamina for an old guy.” Rona quipped cheekily, earning a lifted eyebrow and a smirk. 

“It’s been a while.” He admitted with a casual shrug.

“Oh?” Rona grinned, “And who was the lucky lady?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Sure.”

Bart cleared his throat and then said stiffly, “Eden van der Woodsen.”

“Seriously?” Rona mocked. “That girl gets _around_. You know she slept with Bruce, right?”

“Wayne? Ah yes, I do recall learning that.” Bart chuckled. “I’ll bet that didn’t go over well with Faith.”

“Please!” Rona scoffed, “Eden van der Woodsen is _no competition_ for Faith.”

“Or you, my sweet girl.”

“Whatever. How long ago was this tryst? Or was it more involved than a glorified one-off?”

“It lasted for about a month. About six months ago. We got drunk at one of her Mother’s soirées and ended up in bed together.”

“Was she any good?”

“Eden likes to be dominated, but she’s not exactly adventurous—if you get my meaning.”

“And you’re nothing but that, aren’t you, Rich man?” He smirked, but didn’t deny it. “What would you say to a shower, Bass?”

“I’d say that sounds about perfect, Rona. Or would you prefer a bath? This suite does have a two person jacuzzi tub?”

“Really?” Rona quipped. “Isn’t there some kind of disclaimer in the Bart Bass school of contract negotiations, that excludes bubble baths as an acceptable form of bathing?”

Bart stuttered out a belly laugh, pulling his body away enough that his lower half finally disengaged, before turning Rona around in his embrace and smiling down widely at her. 

“Not with you.” He winked. “I do have a sneaking suspicion that I just might be willing to make many exceptions where you’re concerned.” Glancing over he noticed the time, and sighed. “We’ve missed Bruce and Faith’s brunch.”

“Faith texted me last night that she’d see me in a few weeks. She knew we wouldn’t be there. She’s not an idiot.”

“Touché.” Bart deadpanned. “Hungry?”

“Ravenous.”

“Should I order room service?” He asked softly. “I seem to remember a young Rona being a fan of apple fritters?”

She blanched, her eyes going wide at that very accurate statement. 

“How did you know that?”

“Your family cook used to make them especially for you. I remember one morning after staying the night, following an event at your home? The cook had made some fresh. You were expected back that morning from school, and he’d wanted to make sure you had some waiting.”

“Pierre was the best.” Rona nodded. “I _miss_ him.”

“He left your Father a few years back. I have to admit, I never put the pieces together. Even when you’d told me your first name that night, it didn’t register—and Rona isn’t a common name.”

“It’s not your fault, Bart. I’d often wondered what he’d told to the staff after I’d left home. I didn’t take anything with me, just what I’d had in my backpack and the clothes on my back. I’d emptied my personal bank account my Mom set up for me and went to an underground forger, whom I paid 50K to give me a new identity. I never looked back.”

Bart’s expression darkened. “What surname did you use?”

“Jones.”

“Nondescript, and easily forgettable, plus it has no connections to you personally.” He nodded to himself, then inquired, “Have you been living on what your Mother left you?”

“Pretty much. There were three accounts. One a trust, one for college and one for personal use. The trust had around 200 million in it last time I’d checked. I’ll get that when I turn twenty five. The college one had a little over ten million in it, and I would’ve received the bulk of that money when I’d graduated with my degree. The personal account had about 250K in it. That’s the one I’d accessed and deposited into multiple accounts in various large national banks. Each deposit was under 10K so it wouldn’t be reported. Once the monies were in there for a year, I moved it to an offshore account, then reinvested it. I’ve been earning roughly sixteen percent.”

Bart sat up, his eyes widening with appreciation. “How?”

“I bought stock in several hedge funds.”

“Who’s?”

“Who’s do you _think_ , rich man?”

Bart threw back his head and laughed outrageously, his grey eyes sparkling with wonder. 

“You’re incredible.” He stated sincerely. “Have you ever thought about business as a career?”

“No. I mean, at one time, sure. But, it seemed kind of superfluous after Sunnydale, and I had more important things to deal with.” She sighed, shrugged and clarified, “I suppose at some point I might need to finish my degree, if for no other reason than my Mom wanted me to.”

“I think if she were here, she’d be proud of you regardless, Rona. But we both know that education was very important to her.” He kissed her softly and then reached for the hotel phone to call down for brunch, and when he got off the phone, Rona was watching him with a inscrutable expression on her face. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“ _Not nothing_ , beautiful girl. What are you mulling around in that brilliant mind of yours?”

“What happened with Misty?” Rona asked quietly. “Page Six wrote that you’d divorced, but not much else. Did she cheat on you?”

Bart sighed and nodded. “She did, with my best friend.”

“Thorpe?”

“Why am I not surprised you know his name.”

“I do remember you talking with my Dad once, about him. Did you ruin him?”

“Yes.”

“Good for you, and the tart?”

Bart chuckled, and replied with a grin, “Gone. Five million, and a one way plane ticket out of New York.”

“That’s more than she deserved.”

“Prenuptial agreement.”

“Huh?” Rona shook her head. “That doesn’t _sound_ like you, Bart Bass.”

“In what way?” He cricked his neck slightly, his gaze though, was alight with curiosity.

“I do know you. If you’d had an iron clad prenup the tart wouldn’t have gotten a dime, _especially_ if she’d cheated. So what happened, Bass? Did she threaten you? Or did she have some information you needed or paid her to keep quiet?”

Grey eyes glittered, as that wicked smirk bloomed over handsome features—and Rona felt her breath quicken at that look...

“ _So, unexpected.”_ He murmured, more to himself, but his gaze never left hers for a second. “If you must know, my brother was trying to undermine me. She knew, gave me the information—for a price.”

“Jack? He’s still around?”

“Not anymore.” Bart bit out. “His shares in the company were reallocated to me. He’s off somewhere wallowing in disgrace and will remain wherever he is, if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Ouch!” She snarked, with a half-smile. “So diabolical, Mr. Bass. It’s a wonder you have any friends left.”

He launched himself at her, and rolled her underneath him—tickling her, and making Rona squeal out with rich laughter. 

“ _Take it back!”_

“Bite me, Bass. The truth hurts.”

His laughter joined hers, and eventually he silenced her with a firm kiss. 

As he went to deepen it, his cell phone rang. 

Glancing down at the number, he let out a soft disgruntled groan. 

“Work?”

“No, it’s your Father.”

“ _Excuse me?”_

Bart held up the phone so Rona could see the caller ID, causing her to roll her eyes for effect. 

“I’m going to go and take a shower. You? Can answer that or not. Don’t really care either way!”

“Rona?”

But she flounced off the bed, stuck her tongue out and ran into the bathroom, leaving Bart staring after her then at his phone morosely. 

At the final ring, he reluctantly picked it up. 

“Hello, Robert.”

“Bart. Just calling to see how the wedding went yesterday.”

“It was very tastefully done and the couple looked blissfully in love.”

He cracked a grin at Robert’s amused chuckle. 

“And Rona?”

“She was one of Faith’s attendants. They’re very close.”

“I would’ve liked to have seen that.”

“I did take a few pictures.”

“Do they know?”

“I tend to think that both Bruce and Faith knew who I’d be showing them to.”

“How is Rona? Have you talked with her at all?”

“Robert? You’re one of my good friends, but I’m _not_ going to discuss my relationship with your daughter with you. I don’t think she’d appreciate it at all...and frankly? I don’t plan on getting on Rona’s bad side.”

Robert snorted. “Listen to you? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d planned to make this a permanent situation.”

“Robert?”

“Yes?”

“That’s _exactly_ what I plan to do. It might not be today, nor tomorrow—but sometime in the future, when I can convince her of it?”

A stunned silence fell over the phone, and when Robert finally did speak, his voice was a mixture of anger and sarcasm. 

“And what makes you think that you _deserve_ my daughter, old friend?”

“I don’t. _No one_ would, Robert. However, I’m the one she’s chosen. So, you’ll need to get on board with that reality. I’m not walking away now, nor in the future.”

“You really mean that?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“No.”

“I’m not about to start now. Not with something this important.”

“Are you in love with Rona?”

“Too soon for that, but I care for her and want to see her happy. I’m sure the rest, will come in time. If nothing else, she could kick my ass at any time and probably run circles around me too.”

“Bart? If you’re thinking what I’m assuming you are? When the time comes, you’ll have my blessing only if you promise to put her first always. If you don’t?”

“You don’t need to threaten me, old friend. I’ve already been suitably warned.”

“By whom?”

“The new Mrs. Wayne. Something tells me that woman wouldn’t hesitate to end my existence, if I were to hurt Rona. She’s rather scary.”

“I got that impression as well.” Robert sighed softly. “Please, if you speak with Rona? Tell her I love her, and I would like to talk to her soon.”

“I’ll mention it.” Bart acquiesced. “On an aside, Robert? What did you tell your staff when Rona disappeared?”

“There wasn’t much I needed to tell them, old friend. A few heard the argument, and from there when she left and didn’t come home, they’d all figured it out. Pierre and Sybillah left about a year after Rona disappeared. The rest stayed, but only because they knew how devastated I was when the investigators couldn’t find her.”

“Well, she’s clever. Paid a forger for new documents.”

“I’d suspected something to that effect.”

“She knows you’ve called.”

“She’s there with you?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, and then Robert said pleadingly, “Do you think she might speak with me?”

“Not yet, old friend. It’s only been a bit over a week. Give her time to come to terms with everything. Did you disown her?”

“Of course not!” Robert snarled in ire. “She’s still my Heir, regardless of how she feels about the business or the money.”

“Did you _threaten_ to do it?” The silence on the phone spoke volumes, and Bart sighed in anger. “Not your best move, Robert.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“You knew Rona never cared about any of that, you’d even said so. So why the fuck would you throw that taunt in her face?”

“I honestly don’t know, Bart. I was so angry and despondent. She could’ve died, if what Mr. Giles had shared was true. How was I supposed to take that? Was I supposed to be okay with my only child, being some supernatural warrior and call it good?”

“Frankly, yes.” Bart chuckled. “I’ll admit, it’s all a bit fantastical but did you really honestly think that Rona was lying to you?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. Actually,” Robert admitted reluctantly, “I wasn’t thinking clearly at all. My emotions took over and I reacted...badly.”

“ _Understatement_.”

“Yes.”

“I have to go. I need to get back to Rona. I’ll let her know you want to talk to her, that’s all I can do right now.”

“I do appreciate it, Bart.”

“I know you do, old friend. Talk to you soon.”

Hanging up the phone, Bart headed into the bathroom. He immediately noticed Rona in the bathtub, with a wicked smirk on her face and he just shook his head and went to freshen up before coming back out and joining her. 

As he adjusted his body behind hers, and pulled her into his arms, a warm feeling of rightness settled over his heart. Of all the things he’d done in his life, and of all the compromises he’d made over the years? He’d never thought for a single, solitary second that he’d find someone like Rona, to share his life with. The fact that she’d desired him for years, threw him. Yes, it made his rather inflated ego sit up and pay attention, but the larger part of him had to wonder what a beautiful young woman would want with a man over twenty years her senior. 

“ _Stop it.”_ She warned softly, causing Bart to nip on her shoulder. 

“Stop what?”

“Second guessing this.”

His lips lifted with amusement as he drawled out, “Is that what I’m doing?”

“Probably. My Father thinks that you’re not worthy of me, but likely still gave his conditional approval as long as you behave yourself. Please! Bart Bass has never behaved himself in his entire life. You take what you want, without apology. You like the hunt, the chase, the kill...just in business terms. You’re arrogant, cocky, too astute and enjoy playing the game way too much to stop now.” She turned and straddled him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and giving him a scintillating look. “The man that I’d spent years desiring was larger than life. He knew his own power and he reveled in it.” She traced his neck and moved her hands down his chest possessively, “He still does, and it’s sexy as hell. I can’t tell you, Bart Bass, how many times I’ve gotten myself off to thoughts of you. Cried out your name as I climaxed. How many times I’d close my eyes and imagine it was you, and not someone else, who was deep inside of me.”

Bart gripped her hair with both of his hands and sat up, bringing her lips nearly down to his own, their breaths mingling together, his eyes darkening with raw emotion. 

“Trust me, my beautiful girl? There will never be another man inside of your perfect cunt again, but me. And I’m thinking, I just might need you to show me how you made yourself come to thoughts of me, because I’m finding that idea very, very arousing. I told your Father that I’m not walking away from you, now —nor in the future—so be certain, little girl...that this, is what you want.”

Rona reached down and stroked him with purpose, feeling him hard and thick in her hand. She then lifted herself up, and slid down, engulfing him one more time, into her tight heat. 

“All I’ve ever wanted in my life was you. I never cared about my family’s wealth or status.” She whispered, rocking her hips down into his and rubbing her breasts against his chest with relish, as her clit hit his pubic bone just right. “When I was younger, I didn’t understand what it was that drew me to you and later? I spent years trying to ignore and deny it—but I couldn’t. When I saw you again? I had wondered if you would end up recognizing me and when you didn’t, I _baited_ you. I took what I wanted knowing that there was a very good chance that you’d never know who I was. There was part of me that wanted to go to you and tell you...”

“Why didn’t you?” He interrupted, his voice like fire.

“Because I didn’t think you’d ever want me like this, Bart. I’m not as sexy as Faith, nor as sweet as Buffy...”

“Rona,” he groaned as he gripped her hips tightly and thrusted up into her, relishing in her breathy moans and fluttering eyelids, “I may have been attracted to Faith, but I don’t have the history with her that I have with you. You _see_ me, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’ve always seen you.”

“And if I wasn’t a rich man, would you still want me?”

“Yes, I would.” She moaned, speeding up her pace. “I’ve always wanted you. That will _never_ change.”

His smile was completely genuine, as he moved his hands up to her back and pulled her upper body flush with his, his lower body jackhammering into her quivering quim. Their mouths were open against each other, and their eyes locked. “And I’ll always want you, my perfect girl. Come for me, and let me feel how much you want me.”

How he was able to get her body to obey would forever remain a mystery to Rona, but come she did, throwing her head back and crying out his name like a prayer. 

His own completion followed, her name ripped from his lips in supplication. 

The kiss that followed was filled with so much emotion, it made Rona’s heart literally burst within her chest. This was why she’d never kissed another man, because the only man she’d ever envisioned doing this with, was Bart Bass. 

“ _So, so good..._ ” he whispered huskily. 

Her smile was endearing, and Bart felt a part of him that he’d thought closed off forever, open up tentatively with a surprising eagerness he didn’t think he was capable of anymore. 

Frankly, it floored him. 

“We probably should get out.” He mumbled unhappily. “Food will be here soon.”

“Fine. But only if you promise me that we can pick this up again later on?”

He snickered and then full on laughed. “Insatiable too? Damn, I’m a lucky man.”

“What can I say, Rich man. I really, really... _really_ like sex. Deal with it.”

“Oh, I fully plan on it, Miss Steward. In fact, I’m thinking we’ll need to take a little trip just the two of us? What do you say?”

“How long we talking, Rich man?”

“A week. I know you’ll probably be chomping at the bit to get back to Slaying soon enough. But a week is doable, right?”

“I suppose. But it’s not like you need to ply me with extravagances, Bass. I’m more than happy with a hotel room, a large bed and you deep inside me.”

“Damn, my sexy girl! Am I just going to be your glorified boy toy?”

Rona snickered and then giggled in joy. “That’s what Faith calls Bruce.”

“Oh?” Bart chuckled in amusement. “Suppose I’ll need a better moniker than that, then?”

“I guess I can think of something.” She hummed thoughtfully, “But if you’re serious, I’d like to wait until Faith gets back, if that’s okay.”

“Why?”

“Violet. Faith doesn’t want her left alone right now...”

“Say no more.” Bart nodded, and then lifted them both up out of the tub. “I can wait a few weeks.”

“Thank you.” 

“Not a problem, my sweet girl. You will be coming back to New York, right?”

“With Violet, sure.”

“Where have you been living?”

“Hells Kitchen.”

“Rona...”

“It’s fine.”

“Debatable. But we will discuss it later. Right now, food.”

“Fine. But only because I’m starving.”

Leading her back into their bedroom, Bart had just gotten his boxers and robe on when there was a knock at the door. Moving over and opening it, expecting to see the food, he was caught off guard by the smirking face of his only child. 

“Dad? Is now a bad time?”

Bart sighed and then shook his head, figuring that this would happen sooner or later, and it appeared that sooner was now...

“Of course.” 

He opened the door, waving Chuck inside and then noticed Rona walking out of the bedroom in his dress shirt that went to her upper thigh. His eyes darkened lasciviously, his gaze raking over her form with his patented smirk, while Chuck just seemed bemused. 

Then the food came. 

As they sat down to eat, Bart could see both Rona and Chuck eyeing each other speculatively. 

“Have you eaten, Son?”

“Yes, about an hour ago.”

“Rona, I’m sure you know that this is my Son, Chuck. Son? This is Rona Steward.”

Bart sat back smugly at the look of shock on his son’s face. 

“Steward? As in Robert Steward?”

“Yes.” Bart clarified. 

Glancing over to the young woman sitting there and eating her food, Chuck had to admit she was quite pretty. She seemed to be willing to let his Father take the lead, and she didn’t seem embarrassed nor intimidated at all. He knew at least cursorily, that she was a Slayer too, like Faith Lehane, but not much more than that. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Steward.”

Rona cocked an eyebrow at him, her expression emotionless as she replied, “You too. How are you liking college?”

“It’s fine. That’s actually why I stopped by.”

“Oh?” Bart queried. 

“Yes, Sir. I need to get back to New York. I have a report due in my Macroeconomics class on Tuesday.”

“Interesting topic.” Rona piped in. “Have you talked about the recent shifting in global financial markets, yet?”

Bart turned towards her and sat back with a contemplative look on his face, while Chuck shook his head. 

“Not as such.” He admitted. “We’re discussing the Gross Domestic Product right now.”

“Ah, well the GDP is interesting, and one of the indicators for global market change. However, has your professor had you investigating the subprime market in relation to derivatives in hedge fund allocations?”

Both Bart and Chuck just stared in shock at Rona, as she took a measured sip of her coffee. 

“No. I don’t think he’s even indicated that there might be a correlation between the GDP and the subprime mortgage practices.”

“Then he’s an idiot.” Rona snarked. “The banks are looking to deregulate the hedge fund indicators, and this is a direct result of the subprime mortgage lending practices over the last few years. Unfortunately, all those interest only loans are going to come due at the same time, and when the housing bubble busts, the banks won’t be able to sustain the losses as people can’t refinance their homes. If that happens, where will the economy go?”

“Recession.” Chuck parlayed knowingly, while Bart smirked in glee. 

“Yep. The yield index is already showing signs of the strain. By this time next year? The market is going to go into free fall. Companies like Lehman Brothers, Washington Mutual, Colonial BancGroup, Capmark...they’ll all be filing for BK by no later than November 2009.”

“How do you know this?” Bart asked intently. 

“The signs are all there, if you know what to look for.” Rona admonished. “I would recommend pulling all your money out of hedge funds that look at these companies and others who have highly invested in the subprime market for profit, and reinvest in those companies that will see a profit over the coming recession.”

“Such as?”

“Low cost national retailers for starters—like WalMart, Ross and Target. As people lose their shirts, they’ll still need to dress and feed their families. Also tech companies that make things easier for consumers, like Amazon, Netflix, and Apple are all solid buys. American car manufacturers will be taking a huge hit as well. Biotech should be good to go, though.”

Bart chuckled deeply, his grey eyes heated as he murmured, “Completely unexpected.”

“It’s not rocket science, Bass.” She quipped and rolled her eyes. 

“Does your Father know what a sharp mind you have for business?” Chuck asked, and noticed his Father stiffen as Rona sighed. 

“I haven’t spoken to my Father in years...at least? Not until recently.”

“Oh!” Chuck nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped.”

“You didn’t.” Rona shrugged. “Maybe you could pass on the good news to Dad?” Rona looked to Bart, and he nodded. “As much as I’m still upset with him, I’d rather not see him have to lay off any of his employees just because I refuse to talk to him right now.”

“Rona...”

“Don’t, okay?” She pleaded. “Just give me some more time? I’ll get around to it eventually, but not yet.”

“Fair enough.” Bart agreed with a tinge of unease, before turning to his son. “If you want to take the jet back to New York, feel free. I’ll be home in a couple of days.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Would it be too forward of me to suppose that this?” He gestured between his Father and Miss Steward, “Is fairly new?”

“New enough.” Rona admitted. “It’s not a problem, is it?”

“No.” Chuck shook his head. “My Dad’s been pouting for weeks, so I’m going to assume he must’ve screwed this up somehow, back in New York.” Bart glowered, while Rona snickered at Chuck’s spot on assessment. “But obviously he’s managed to figure it out, if you gave him another chance?”

“Something like that.” Rona winked. “But seriously, if this is going to be an issue? I’m not going to get in the way between the two of you.”

“Rona?” Bart growled. “Just stop it right there, and don’t even think of trying to find an excuse to run.”

“I’m not, you big _jerk_!” She bit back. “I’m trying to be thoughtful, or at least that was the general idea. Chuck isn’t an idiot, nor am I. He gets a vote in this, even if you’re too stubborn to acknowledge it right now—because you’re thinking with your little Bass and not the logical Bass.” She pointed to his crotch and then his other head in turn. “So sue me, if I’m going to at least try and play nice with Chuck, because despite what you might like to think? Not everything is about _you_.”

Chuck sat back and actually _smiled_ , which threw Bart off more than Rona’s rant did. 

“I really like her.” Chuck said at last. “Anyone who can call you out on your bullshit, Dad? Is okay in my book.”

“Good to know.” Bart griped, as he glared at Rona, who was sitting back and smirking cockily at him in triumph. “Now you’ll need to excuse us, Son. I’m afraid Rona and I have some pressing business to take care of.”

“Fine.” Chuck nodded politely, and then winked at Rona. “I’ll leave you both to your _business_.”

“It was good to finally meet you formally, Chuck.”

“You too, Rona.”

Bart watched his son leave, and when the door shut, he lunged for Rona and pulled her into his lap. 

“You’re trouble.”

“And?”

“Just stating facts.” He replied with an amused quirk of his lips. “Are you done with your breakfast?”

“Depends?” She teased. “Is there a better offer to be had?”

“I was thinking about my mouth on your cunt.”

“That definitely sounds like a better offer. But, I think I could do one better?”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Let me suck your dick, while you get me off?” Rona licked her lips for effect, and smirked when Bart’s nostrils flared in want. “Have you ever done sixty-nine before?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm...” Rona moved over and lifted her leg over his lap, straddling him in his chair, as she leant down and whispered deeply into his ear. “Have you ever had a woman stimulate your prostate, while she’s sucked you off?”

Bart inhaled a surprised breath as he choked out, “No.”

“Have you ever used a cock ring?”

“No.”

“Anal plug?”

His hands were now gripping onto her ass like a vice as he bit out deeply, “No.”

“Hmm,” she licked the shell of his ear slowly, and felt his chest rumble, “I say we go shopping. There’s a discreet boutique in Little Italy called Spice, that sells all kinds of interesting toys. I want to tie you up and make you beg...would you like that, Mr. Bass?”

Stormy grey eyes locked with hers, and Rona could see the wild desire there, as Bart considered her. 

“I think, my sweet, sexy girl, that I would very much be interested in all of that.”

“Good.” She kissed him deeply, and felt his body harden under hers. When she pulled back, Rona admitted wickedly, “I have a very vivid imagination, Mr. Bass.”

“And have I starred in some of these fantasies, Miss Steward?”

“All of them.” She replied seriously, as she traced his lower lip with her index finger.

“Oh?” He nipped at her, “What’s the most erotic fantasy you’ve ever had about me?” He grinned then, and Rona cocked an eyebrow in challenge, but then decided to bite the bullet when she taunted...

“That depends, Mr. Bass.”

“On what?”

“Are we talking about my most erotic fantasy that you do to me? Or vice versa?”

“Either? Both?”

“Well, before I understood that I liked control, I had one particular fantasy about you when I was in college and it involved a blindfold, and vanilla ice cream.”

“That’s my favorite ice cream.”

“I _know_.”

Bart smirked. “Were you blindfolded?”

“Yes.”

“Did I eat the ice cream off you?”

“ _Yes_.” She purred. 

“I think we can make that happen ASAP. And the other?”

“Was after I’d discovered my propensity towards domination.”

“And what did you do to me, my sweet girl?”

She leant over and whispered into his ear, exactly what she’d fantasized doing to him, and by his body’s very visceral reaction, Rona could tell that Bart liked the idea very much. 

“I definitely think we can definitely make that happen as well.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“No. But I’m sure I could think of something fitting.”

“Good.” She slithered down his body until she was kneeling at his feet and pulled his robe apart, then slid his boxers down his legs, staring hungrily at the fine specimen of man in front of her. “But right now? I need to suck you off.”

“Damn, beautiful girl. You say the sweetest things.”

Bart watched with hooded eyes...at Rona laving him with attention...and he simply couldn’t stop the swell of emotion crawling its way into his chest. Her amber eyes were watching him with such unbridled hunger as she wrapped her succulent lips around his manhood, he felt fucking invincible...

The eager sounds she made as she sucked him off, were sinful too...

And it was more than amazing...

She was more than amazing...

_His sweet girl was fucking perfect..._


	69. Two to Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Faith make their way to Buenos Aires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, you’ll note towards the end that a new character is being added to the story, and for those who recognize the name, and the movie it comes from...yes, I will be adding a bit of that genre/crossover into this story for fun.

The flight to Buenos Aires had been long, but not uneventful as the newlyweds spent the better part of their flight time making love to each other. Bruce has no idea that he’d feel such an overwhelming possessiveness now that Faith was officially his wife. It was like he couldn’t get enough of her, and she didn’t seem to mind it at all. 

In fact, she was just as insatiable. 

“You do _know_?” She purred, as they were cleaning up before they were set to land, “Dr. Brooks did warn us that my libido in my second trimester might ramp up.”

Bruce chuckled, pulling her into his lap and kissing her breathless. 

“Lucky me.” He growled, before plundering her mouth again. 

“Is the security detail going to be waiting at the airport for us?”

“Yes. They’ll take us to the hotel, and I’ve gotten them their own suite of rooms. The hotel manager was quite eager to accommodate us. It’s springtime there right now, so tourism isn’t quite as crazy as it will be in a couple months.”

“Oh, that’s right! I had forgotten about their seasons being the opposite of ours. Do we have any specific things planned?”

“There’s the Recoleta Cemetery.” Bruce deadpanned, causing Faith to snicker in amusement. 

“Giles did tell me there are two potentials here in Buenos Aires. Both have Watchers, of course. He gave me their names and contact information, so I might check in if that’s okay?”

“I don’t see why not.” Bruce sighed. “But promise me you’re not going to go out and Slay. I know you’ll be tempted, Gorgeous—but this is our honeymoon and I’ll expect your nights to be busy with me taking full advantage of my husbandly duties. I’d rather not share, if that’s alright with you.”

“Fair enough. I’m sure I can make that work.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you ever been here before?”

“No, but Alfred has and he did give me some ideas of things we could do.”

“Such as?”

“There’s the Teatro Colon Opera House. One of the finest in the world. We will be seeing a rendition of La Boheme. Then I’d thought it might be fun to take Argentinian tango lessons.”

“I can dance the tango.”

Bruce shook his head in wonder. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Of course. I can’t cook worth a damn, and I’m rather pathetic when it comes to algebra.”

Her husband tilted back his head and laughed in glee. When he finally calmed down a few moments later, his expression was so open and free, Faith had to admit, he looked glorious. 

“I love you.”

“And I love you.” She replied easily. “Anything else?”

“We will be spending a week there in Buenos Aires and then we will fly with our security detail to where the Wayne Yacht is harbored.”

“Which is?”

“Just off Bora Bora.”

“South Pacific, nice!”

“Did you bring that skimpy bikini you’d promised me?”

“A few, actually.”

“Excellent.”

At that moment, Alex came onto the intercom and let them know they were starting their descent into the Aeroparque Internacional Jorge Newbery Airport. 

The landing went smooth as silk, and once they’d disembarked and made their way through customs, their security detail was waiting. 

“Mr. Wayne.”

“Hello, Miguel.”

“Do you have all your luggage, Sir?”

“Yes.”

The tall, dark skinned man with a goatee and warm green eyes smiled and bowed to Faith. 

“Your Grace.”

“Just, Mrs. Wayne.”

“Very good.”

As they moved to their SUV’s, Bruce and Faith were flanked by five other security personnel, and from the vibe she was getting, they were all very controlled and alert. 

“Will we be heading to the hotel first thing, Mr. Wayne?”

“Yes, Miguel.”

The man nodded, and spoke in rapid Spanish to his counterparts. Once the luggage was loaded, and Bruce and Faith were seated in the back of the first SUV, (which was bullet-proofed), they were on their way into the city proper. 

The drive to the hotel was rather quick, and Miguel made sure to point out a few key attractions along the way. When they arrived, Faith had to admit, the front of the hotel had an old world European charm to it. 

“It’s very pretty.” Faith breathed out in awe. 

“It’s called La Mansion, and we will be staying in the Presidential Suite.”

“Of course we will.” Faith snarked, causing Bruce to shake his head fondly at her. 

Once parked in front of the hotel, their security detail in the first SUV got out and came around, opening the door for Bruce and following him around, as he opened the door for his wife. 

As she stepped out, there were several people waiting for them. 

“ _Who are these people?_ ” She asked silently.

“I believe that is the President of Argentina and his wife.”

“ _Was this planned?”_ Faith asked once again, into Bruce’s mind and he shook his head subtly. 

Taking Faith’s arm, he walked with her to the older gentleman and his wife, who were smiling widely at them. 

As they approached, both of them bowed and curtsied, respectively. 

“Mr. Wayne?” The man said in accented English. 

“Yes.” 

“Welcome to Argentina. I am President Néstor Kirchner, and this is my wife, Christina.”

“How do you do?” Bruce shook the man’s hand and bowed politely over the other woman’s hand in greeting. “Might I introduce you both to my wife, Faith Wayne, the Grand Duchess Nickolayevna of Russia.”

Néstor bowed deeply and Christina curtsied in respect as well. 

“Your Grace, welcome to our country. We are honored to have you both here. Perhaps we can escort you inside and allow your security detail to get you both situated?”

“That would be preferable, thank you.” Bruce replied kindly. 

They followed the older couple into the hotel, where several of the staff and what looked to be the hotel manager and concierge, were waiting. 

“How long will you be staying with us in country?”

“A little over a week.” Bruce clarified. “This is the first stop on our honeymoon.”

“Congratulations.” Néstor nodded sincerely. “I do hope you both might find time to join myself and my wife for dinner one evening, at our home?”

“We would be honored.” Bruce replied for the both of them, knowing instinctively that such an invitation would be rude to ignore. 

“Have you been to Argentina before, Your Grace?” Christina Kirchner inquired, and Faith shook her head in the negative. 

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure. But I’m looking forward to seeing as much of it as we can while we’re here.”

“Are you visiting any place specific?”

“The Opera House, the night after next.” Bruce replied. “We also have tango lessons tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Christina cooed, “The Argentinian Tango is the most passionate dance in the world.”

“I would have to agree with that.” Faith quipped with a saucy wink, causing both Néstor and Christina to smile and chuckle fondly. 

“Well, we won’t keep you.” Néstor waved over the manager, who came quickly, “This is Emilio, and he will make sure you’re both well taken care of.”

“Thank you.” Bruce nodded in gratitude. 

“Perhaps Friday evening at seven for dinner?”

“That sounds lovely.” Bruce agreed readily. “We will be looking forward to it.”

“Excellent. Enjoy your stay, and should you require anything? Please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

“We will. Thank you again.”

Once they’d left, Bruce checked in and their security made sure their room was clear before being escorted to their own rooms not too far away. However, two of the detail stayed outside the room and down the hall, just far enough to ensure privacy but close enough to be on hand should anything untoward happen.

Unpacking took about forty minutes, and once completed, both Faith and Bruce decided to take a bubble bath together. As they were reclining in the rather large tub, Bruce asked, “What would you like to do tonight?”

“Besides fucking you?”

“Yes, Gorgeous—besides that.”

“I don’t know. What are my options?”

“Well, we could order room service in and go down to the hotel pool. I’ve seen pictures and it looks rather nice. They have a spa here, so a couples massage is an option, if you’re so inclined. There is a night market that plays live music, the Makena Cantina Club, I think it’s called? It’s in the Palermo district. More low key than some of the other night club spots.”

“Hmm, all those sound tempting. But I think I’d like to stay in tonight. Maybe we can go out tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.” 

“I’m hungry though.”

“Well, we could go and have dinner at the restaurant here in the hotel?”

“Okay.”

They took their time and luxuriated in each other for an hour before making their way down to the restaurant. They were seated immediately.

Glancing over the menu, Faith hummed at the plethora of interesting choices. 

“What looks good, Gorgeous?”

“I’m going to get the Pumpkin and Ricotta Ravioli.”

“That sounds tasty.”

“It does,” she agreed as she set her menu down, “you’re going to get the Argentinian Kobe, aren’t you?”

Bruce shook his head at how spot on his wonderful wife was. 

“Am I that predictable?”

“No, but I have noticed on the times we’ve dined out at various restaurants in New York, and in Chicago, you tend to pick whatever the restaurant speciality is. It’s almost like you gauge how good a place is based on their signature dish.”

“ _How do you do that?”_

“You know how, Krasivyy.”

The waiter came over a few moments later and took their orders. Bottled water and juice was brought to the table, as well as fresh brioche and a mushroom pate.

“Have you heard anything from Rona?” Bruce asked once their entrees had been served. 

“No. But something tells me she’ll have Bart eating out of the palm of her hand in no time. I’m still having a hard time dealing with the fact that she’s always had a thing for the guy.”

“Bart is highly eligible.” Bruce quipped and Faith rolled her eyes at that comment. 

“So were you. So was John, come to think of it.”

“Touché.”

“It’s not the age thing, although he’s what? Twenty years older than her?”

“Twenty-two, but Bart takes care of himself. He’s actually a talented mountain climber, and was an avid surfer when he was younger. He did his undergrad at Stanford, so he spent a few years on the West coast.”

“I’m surprised. I’d have thought he was definitely an east coast guy.”

“He did his MBA at Harvard.”

“That sounds more like it.” 

Bruce chuckled and nodded. “I think he was on the Harvard Rowing team, and fencing too? But don’t hold me to that.”

“What do you know about Robert Steward?”

Bruce averted his gaze, as he knew that Faith was going to ask this at some point. 

“The Steward family has lived in Chicago for generations. I do know that Robert’s father was one of the Pioneers in computer chip manufacturing. But he’s expanded the company into biotech, construction and communications.”

“Sounds like a smart guy.”

“He’s a savvy businessman, I wasn’t kidding about that, Gorgeous. He owns quite a bit of real estate and is also part owner of one of the baseball teams in Chicago, as well as their Hockey team.”

“Rona hates sports.”

Bruce chuckled and shrugged helplessly. “That may be true, but it was a good investment at the time. The values of the local sports teams there have all gone up quite a bit.”

“Huh, why hasn’t Wayne Enterprises ever invested in a sports team?”

“Well, when my Father was running things, he never would’ve considered such an action. He would’ve seen it as the height of vanity, and that wasn’t him at all. When he and my mother died, the company was left in the care of managers, board members—some of which, including the managing director, William Earle—decided to take the company public against the final wishes of my Father. Douglas Fredericks, whom you met that night at the ballet? Was vehemently against it. Since I was gone for seven years, Earle decided to have me declared legally dead. When I returned home to Gotham, I ingratiated myself back into my family’s company, and that’s how I met Lucius. Earle had banished him to the applied sciences division.”

“Where you got all your tech?”

“Mmhmm,” he winked, “and then I set up several shell corporations and charitable foundations, so when the company went public, I bought back most of the shares, and fired Earle. That’s when I made Lucius my CEO.”

Faith’s expression morphed into a sinfully pleased one, and she licked her lips with relish, causing Bruce to chuckle deeply. 

“Am I turning you on, Gorgeous?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m completely drenched right now?”

Bruce’s nostrils flared in want. “Vixen! Finish your dinner and only then, will I take you back upstairs and ravish you properly.”

“Promises, promises...”

“I make good on all my promises...”

“I know.”

Later on when they got back to their room, they spent the rest of the night making love, finally falling asleep wrapped around each other with matching smiles of contentment on their faces. 

And as she slumbered, Faith felt herself floating away...

_The area seemed familiar, but not as she found herself walking along a winding pathway through a grove of trees, that she’d never seen before. The smells of fresh flowers and wet earth permeated her nostrils, and taking a big inhalation of breath, Faith felt her lips lifting in contentment._

_This place smelled like home..._

_The sun glistened in the sky, and as she continued to walk, she eventually made a sharp left hand turn and the grove of trees fell away to a large, bright green lawn—the expanse of which? She’d never seen before. Gazing into the distance, her eyes widened at the stately palace that was larger than anything she’d ever seen._

_And it beckoned her..._

_Walking across the lawns, her eyes flitted to and fro, taking in as much of the scenery as possible. There were hedged bushes, and fountains, several stone benches and a small building to her right. As she got closer to the palace...and she was assuming that’s what it was based on the gargantuan size of it—Faith could see the white stately columns, numerous windows and the cornflower blue etched facing._

_The large stone steps led to doorway beyond, that was open..._

_Brow furrowing in confusion, Faith walked up the steps and peeked inside. The large foyer was empty, so she moved inside and called out..._

“Is anyone here?”

_But there was no answer._

_Looking to the left and then the right...her instincts led her in the latter direction as she walked silently down the long hallway, the walls adorned with all manner of artwork._

_It almost felt like she was in a museum of some kind..._

_Calling out again_ , “Hello?” _She was met with silence._

_Taking another right, down another corridor, Faith had to wonder just where she was._

_However, as she came for the next turn to the left, she heard a sound that seemed a lot like the laughter of children playing..._

_Moving in that direction, she called out again but no one responded. She was about to turn back around when the laughter sounded much closer. Moving at a rapid pace, she turned to the right, where the sounds seemed to be coming from when she notice a large doorway open to the left._

_Walking through, Faith was brought up cold—her eyes widening at the smiling faces of three children, two boys and a girl, all grinning at her. But it was the man whom they were surrounding, who’s expression was alight with welcome and Faith hissed out a stunned breath of recognition..._

**“Dobro pozhalovat' domoy, dorogaya Nikolayevna.”**

**(Welcome home, my dearest Nickolayevna)**

“Praded?”

(Great-Grandfather?)

**“Da, eto ya. Kazhetsya, ty udivlen, uvidev menya zdes'?”**

**(Yes, it is I. You seem surprised to see me here?)**

_Glancing around, Faith’s gaze locked onto the three children, who were now sitting at the feet of her Grandfather, their eager faces avidly watching her. It was at that moment that her attention fell to the oldest one, and her breath hitched in sudden awareness._

“Damian?”

“Da mama?”

_Faith’s dark eyes took in the other two children, smaller and obviously younger. The second boy was smiling at her, his dark hair so much like Bruce’s and her own was easy to see, but his hazel eyes like his Father, glistened up at her with amusement._

_The younger girl, was now watching her with a serious expression on her face, and Faith quirked a grin at that look. She knew that look. It was the exact same one she’d had as a child._

_Her breath hitched again at realizing that these were all her children...._

_The children that she and Bruce would have someday._

_Her right hand instinctively went to her stomach and sighed._

“Hello.” _She said softly in Russian, moving forward into the large room until she was right in front of her children. Kneeling down, she smiled widely in acknowledgment._ “Kak vas zovut?”

(What are your names?)

The younger boy said simply, “Michael Alfred Alexandrovich Wayne.”

The small girl, who’s voice was sweet and light said seriously, “Zarina Anastasia Martha Wayne.”

_Faith swallowed and nodded, her eyes shining with tears as her gaze lifted to her grandfather, who was smiling down at her adoringly._

“ **Takiye prekrasnyye deti, Nikolayevna. YA ne mog byt' boleye gordym.”**

**(Such perfect children, Nickolayevna. I couldn't be prouder)**

Faith swallowed again and nodded, continuing on in Russian as she queried, “I guess, I should ask why you’re here, Grandfather?”

**Nicholas chuckled and stood, turned to her future children and said kindly in Russian, “Go and find your Grandmother. She is around here somewhere.”**

“Yes, Papa.” They all chimed in and as one, stood, and rushed off to only God knew where. 

“Grandmother?”

**“Yes, Anastasia has taken a special interest in your youngest.”**

_Faith just nodded, because what was there to say to that?_

“ **Walk with me, Nickolayevna.”**

_So walk they did. They discussed many things, but it wasn’t until Faith found herself in a small anteroom, and noted the portrait on the wall that she finally understood where she was._

_The Hermitage..._

_Once the home of the Romanov family._

“Grandmother?”

“ **It is,” Nicholas stated proudly, “You understand where we are, yes?”**

“I do, but why am I here?”

_Nicholas led her to a small chaise on the far side of the room and patted the space next to him as he sat. Faith complied, her attention fully focused on her grandfather._

“ **Soon, you will be returning home. It is something that I have waited a century for, Nickolayevna. But with that joy, also comes a warning. You only have this one time, to make the impression you wish to make to our people. You will need to show strength, compassion, kindness and fortitude. Our people will be watching you, and they will want to see that you are one of them. You are a Romanov, but your life has been filled not with pageantry, but with deep hardship. It will make you more understanding of their plight.”**

“Are things really that awful?”

“ **Yes and no. For hundreds of years our family ruled Russia. We loved the people and took care of them, but eventually, we became lost in our own vanity and propensity for power and wealth that we lost sight of what was truly important.”**

“The people?”

**“Yes. The current regime and their leader is not as diligent as he should be about doing what is right. He craves his power too much and would see Russia become something I’m not sure she’d survive if allowed to continue.”**

“Is he a threat?”

“ **Vladim Pushkin is not long for this world, although he is as yet, unaware of it.”**

_Faith nodded in understanding._

“What do I do?”

“ **You must follow your instincts, stay vigilant, and listen to those around you. You have made good and trusted contacts, so keep them close. For the others, remember, Nickolayevna...there is no shame in protecting what is yours. The trick is to find your enemies weakness and exploit it.”**

“It’s what I do best.”

_Nicholas chucked and nodded._

“ **I am very proud of the woman you’ve become, dearest. I know there was a time you’d wished to leave this life behind, but selfishly? I am glad you refrained from doing so.”**

_Biting her lip, Faith looked down with shame—tears welling at the corners of her eyes._

“I’m sorry, Grandfather.”

“ **Do not apologize, Nickolayevna. Not to me. I have watched you throughout your life, and whilst it saddened me to see you falter and stumble...I never had a doubt you’d come out the other side stronger and more resilient. You just needed to learn to trust in your own power and in yourself.”**

“You’re not disappointed in me?”

_Nicholas shook his head emphatically._

“ **Never, my dearest girl. I’m very proud of you, Nickolayevna. You are named for me, you know? Your fire, passion and impulsivity are traits that you inherited from your dear Grandpapa.”**

_Faith smiled and giggled, before her expression fell slightly._

“Is my Mom, okay?”

“ **She is. She misses you, and loves you. I am sure you must understand, that everything that has transpired in your life has led you to this moment. Every choice, for good or bad has brought you here and will guide you forward. You have a good man, who will brave the unknown with you. It is all I could’ve asked for, if the choice had been left to me.”**

“Thank you,” Faith whispered emotively, “Your approval means the world to me.”

_Nicholas nodded, and then stood up, holding out his hand to his granddaughter, which she took without hesitation._

_He kissed her forehead and said with feeling..._

“ **Be happy, child. And when the time comes, you will be back in this room. See the sconce to the left?”**

_Faith glanced up and nodded._

“I do.”

“ **If you pull it down and rotate it thrice, left-right-left...it will open a door here...”**

_Her grandfather placed his hand on a panel next to the wall._

“What’s behind it?”

“ **I think, I’ll leave that to you to discover. Something that belongs to you, at any rate.”**

“Great, more secrets.” Faith quipped, earning a playful grin from her grandfather. 

“ **I love you, Nickolayevna.”**

“I love you too, Grandfather.”

_He smiled and then faded from you, and soon enough..._

Faith’s eyes opened...

  
Back in her room in Buenos Aires, Faith sighed softly, as she wiped at her cheeks and felt the wetness of tears on her fingers. 

Of all the slayer dreams she’d ever had?

This one was the most real. 

Her Grandfather looked so much like her mom, but even so—it was the vision of her children that started new tears to well up in earnest. 

Carefully slipping out of bed and glancing at the time, Faith noticed it was after eight in the morning and she didn’t need to look back to know that Bruce was still sleeping...his soft snores filling the room. 

Heading into their ensuite, she relieved herself and brushed her teeth and hair, pulling it up into a bun before moving into the shower. Standing under the spray, and reminiscing on her dream, a fresh wave of tears fell like water droplets down her cheeks in earnest. 

When Faith heard footsteps behind her, she turned around and noticed Bruce standing there watching her with a smile, and then his expression shifted suddenly as he took in her tears. 

“Gorgeous?” 

He moved swiftly into the shower and enveloped her within his strong embrace, cupping her cheeks and titling her face up to his so he could get a better look at her. 

“What _happened?”_

“Dream.”

She noticed Bruce’s expression darken as he nodded slowly. 

“Slayer dream?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I do, but not yet.” She pleaded. “Just give me some time to process it, okay?”

“Of course.”

He kissed her reverently, and then proceeded to wash her thoroughly before she did the same for him. Once cleaned and dressed, Bruce called down for breakfast. 

Faith had taken up a semi-permanent spot laying on the chaise lounge on their balcony, as she listened to the sounds of Buenos Aires in the distance. 

Bruce came out a while later, and sat down at her side, facing her...

He ran his hand down the side of her face sweetly, and his touch caused her to close her eyes in pleasure at the simple, warm feelings he always seemed to invoke in her. 

“Brunch is here.” He glanced over his shoulder and said, “Do you want to eat out here?”

“Sure.”

He nodded and left back inside. A minute later the wait staff came out and set up an eating area for them, and left soon afterwards with a healthy tip. 

Bruce held out his hand and guided her up and over to her seat, pulled it out and readjusted her accordingly, before taking his own spot across from her. Food was dished up, and juice poured before he spoke up again.

“Our dance lesson is at two. Is there anything else you wanted to do today?”

“No, maybe we could just walk around the city a bit?”

“We could do that.”

Faith could feel Bruce’s heightened emotional state. He was filled with worry, love and curiosity. It was clear he wanted to know what she’d dreamt about, but he loved her enough to give her the necessary time to process.

“Blair told me to check out a couple places for furniture here.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm,” Faith hummed softly, “she thought some of the local styles might work well in the indoor pool area as well as the solarium.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Bruce replied, “and we can ship it home.”

After they were done eating, Faith picked out her outfit for the day, and smiled when she saw her husband walking out of the bathroom, dressed in clothes far more causal than he’d normally wear. 

The weather was perfectly mild but would warm up a bit in the afternoon, probably closer to 75 degrees. The jeans he’d chosen were dark, and molded to his strong legs perfectly. His shirt was a fitted button up, with the top two buttons undone, exposing his throat to her hungry gaze. His hair was tousled in the way she adored and he was sporting the slightly scruffy look that was so different than his usual clean shaven style, but was simply scrumptious on him. 

Her heart rate accelerated accordingly, as she bit her lip hard to stop the desperate whine that was bubbling up in her throat. 

Bruce’s hazel eyes lifted at that moment, and a small cocky smirk broke out over his face as if he knew where her lascivious thoughts had gone. 

His piercing eyes then raked over her form, and his expression shifted to a more predatory one.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” 

Her outfit was rather simple...

The dress she’d chosen had a fitted bodice, ruffled capped sleeves and a plunging sweetheart neckline. The skirt flowed to just below the knee, and swished when she walked. The dress bodice was black, but the skirt had a myriad of fun colors (royal blue, green and bright yellow on a background) while her shoes were the matching blue.

“Perfect for dancing too.”

“That’s what I thought when I picked it out.”

Bruce grabbed his suit jacket, and she for the fitted black soft leather bolero style jacket she’d brought, then they made their way of their room, where two of their security detail were posted. 

“Mr. Wayne, Mrs. Wayne.”

“Good morning, Eduardo, Jorge.”

Faith nodded to the two men, who looked as if they could be related. Eduardo was around six-four, dark hair that went to his shoulders and probably weighed a good 210. Jorge was slightly shorter, but stockier, with cropped hair and a scar on the left side of his neck that ran under the collar of his shirt. 

“Where to, Sir.”

“Palermo district. We will be doing some shopping and then we have an appointment with Alejandro Marza at two.”

“Of course.”

Once they were situated in their SUV’s, the drive wasn’t too long...and when they got to their destination, Faith was amazed by all the colorful store fronts, and cobblestones narrow streets that housed restaurants, small boutiques and people walking to and fro. 

“This is the Palermo Soho District.” Bruce explained softly. “I tend to liken this to some of the funkier shopping areas in San Francisco.”

“Like?”

“Well, the last time I was there, I went to the Haight-Ashbury and spent an afternoon walking around. Bright store fronts, friendly people, lots of eclectic shops. No one recognized me, or if they did? They didn’t seem to care. San Francisco has a very laid back attitude when it comes to celebrity. The people there won’t approach you, and they don’t really stare. The tourists will, and that’s how I was always able to tell the locals apart from those who were visiting.”

“How many times did you visit?”

“Three. Zephyr first invited me for Thanksgiving my sophomore year, and Alfred was visiting family at that time, so I went. She knew everyone in the city, from the local store owners to the stuffy socialites—and she treated them all the same.”

“Sounds like you were fond of her.”

“We were good friends, but she was far too driven for me, even then.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm, and she was unapologetically bisexual.”

“And you’re not into sharing.”

“No, I’m not.”

Faith snickered, as she took Bruce’s hand and allowed him to help her out of the car. 

“It was too bad that Balthazar couldn’t come to our wedding. I was kinda looking forward to meeting the man.”

“Well, the birth of his first great-grandchild took precedence.”

“As it should.”

As they walked, Miguel pointed out a few shops, and Faith was enchanted with a glass shop that had all kinds of vases, glasses, and other accoutrements for the home. She purchased several items, that the man was more than happy to ship back home to Gotham. There was a candle shop, a dress shop and a small toy boutique that she found rather endearing. When she picked up a small handmade doll, her breath hitched as the memories from her dream assaulted her.

“Gorgeous?”

“Huh?”

Faith’s startled expression, caused Bruce to come over and wrap his arm around her waist, his lips making contact with her temple, before he whispered out, “Are you okay?”

“Hormones.”

“Ah.” 

His reply was smooth, but Faith could tell he didn’t really believe her. 

Another hour of shopping and a small lunch at a local restaurant, where they’d snacked on empanadas filled with beef, spinach and corn, followed. At two o’clock sharp, Faith found herself outside a rustic old building with a large picture window on the second floor. 

“Is this a dance studio?”

“Yes,” Bruce replied, “Alejandro Manza is a world famous Tango ballroom dancer, and this is his studio. He kindly made himself available for an afternoon to teach us.”

“Teach you, you mean.” Faith winked as Bruce smirked, and led her upstairs and the sounds and strains of Argentinian Tango Music filtered through the air. Faith felt her face relax and the sultry sounds, and she felt Bruce chuckling next to her. 

“Eager, huh?”

“Sue me. I love to dance.”

“I know, and your damn sexy when you do it, too.”

“Oh, Krasivyy! You haven’t seen _anything_ yet.”

A lifted eyebrow at her comment, just made her smile widen even more. 

When the entered the studio, it was to the smiling face of a handsome older gentleman who looked to be close to fifty, with greying hair, dark skin and a rather fit lithe physique. 

“Mr. Wayne!” 

“Hello, Alejandro.”

The man came over and bowed in welcome, then smiled widely at Faith. 

“Mrs. Wayne, welcome to my humble studio. Your husband explained that you requested this as part of your honeymoon, yes?”

The man’s voice was accented, and smooth...very likable and Faith found herself instantly relaxing as she nodded enthusiastically.

“I did. And please, call me Faith.”

“Then I am Ale, as my friends call me. Have you ever tangoed before?”

“Yes.”

“Oh?”

“I like to dance.”

Bruce grinned, even as he shook his head and murmured with amusement, “That is an _understatement_.”

“Well, perhaps we can see how much I need to teach you?”

“Sure.”

Faith took off her jacket and handed Bruce her purse, while Ale set up the scene. 

When he came back over and reached for her, Faith could see and feel the man’s entire demeanor shift into something far more dominant. 

Normally she loved control, but in dancing, especially this one...it was the one time she’d gladly give it over to the right partner. 

Ale twirled her effortlessly into his frame and the second she came face to face with him, her frame locked, head up, tension ready and he smirked. 

Then the music stared and Faith allowed him to lead her in the Tango Basic Steps...which she flowed through easily enough. Leading the cross, he was smooth as silk, and she followed his lead instinctively. As the movements became more staccato’d, Faith tilted her head to the side—and then up—twirled her steps into Ale and then allowed him to move her into a backwards slide across the floor. 

This continued on for several more minutes, and when she caught Bruce’s eyes, he was smirking proudly at her...his eyes blistering with raw desire. 

She could feel it coming off of him in waves. 

At the end of the first tutorial, Ale took a step back and clapped. 

“Well done, Faith. You are very good! Did you take lessons?”

“In Cleveland there was a little dance studio that I would haunt from time to time, and watch the professionals dance. One took pity on me and taught me a few things.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. I learned tango, and the samba.”

“Very good!” Ale nodded. “Both very passionate dances.”

He waved Bruce over, who stood up and took his position. The second before the music started, Bruce whispered lowly, “I also know how to tango.”

“ _What_?” Faith hissed out, and then the music started and she was swept away by her fucking sexy husband, who literally took control and took her breath away. 

For the next ten minutes, Bruce took her to school—his hardened body taking charge of hers, and moving her from one sequence to the next like a professional. Their eyes locked, and she could feel the heat from his hand on her back, like a controlled fire. 

When she titled her head away, feigning reluctance, his hand tightened just enough as he brought her back harder into him but never sacrificing their frame, as they moved around the room like they’d been doing this dance for their entire lives. 

At the end he pulled her into him completely, her head tilted back and her leg wrapped around his body like a vice, her breath caught in on an inhalation, his lips at her throat...barely caressing the scented flesh there. 

“ _You’re so in trouble, Krasivyy_ ”... she said silently, and felt his body rumbling with mirth. 

The clapping of Ale, pulled them back from the brink of Faith ripping Bruce’s clothes off and fucking him right then and there. 

“ _Well done!_ I can see you both are very well matched partners!”

Bruce slid his wife down his body purposefully, her razor sharp gaze assessing him coolly. He could almost see the questions in her deep brown eyes. 

“Alfred made me take dance lessons.”

“Ah, and who was your teacher?”

“Her name was Sophia Annault.”

Ale heard the name and clapped again. 

“Sophia! My, how lucky you were to have such a world class tutor, Bruce.”

“She was a family friend.”

Ale nodded, and then proceeded to show them some advanced movements, lifts and interchanges so after another hour, they were both laughing and having the best time. 

“Well, I think my work here is done.” Ale said proudly. 

“Thank you!” Faith kissed the man’s cheek in parting. “This was the absolute best!”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself, Faith.”

“Thank you, Ale.” Bruce shook the older man’s hand firmly. “I appreciate it more than I can say.”

“Nonsense. It was a joy for me to see such a kindred couple enjoying the art of dance. Truly a treat.”

As Bruce led her from the studio, Faith nudged her hip with his. “That was amazing.”

“So glad you approved.”

“Jerk.”

“Yes, Gorgeous.”

Shaking her head with a lighthearted grin, Faith and Bruce were making their way back to their SUV, when she heard her name being called. 

Frowning, and feeling Bruce stiffen next to her, Faith turned around...her eyes going wide at the man standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“I almost didn’t think it was _you_.”

Bruce glanced down at his wife, who was actually grinning at the unknown man. 

“ _Who is this?_ ” Bruce asked, a tinge of something in his voice that Faith suspected sounded an awful lot like jealousy.

“Krasivyy, give me a minute?”

Bruce lips flattened, but he nodded once...watching as his wife moved over towards the other man. He was about his height, Asian, and svelte. His gaze however, was very keen and knowing. 

Their conversation was low enough that Bruce couldn’t hear much of it, but when it was done, Faith nodded and then waved him off. When she came back, Bruce took her into his side and gritted out, “Well?”

“Stop it.” She admonished sweetly. “He’s an old acquaintance.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Remember when I told you that I’d liked to street race back in Cleveland?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, what I didn’t tell you is there is an entire underground race scene that stretches from Tokyo, to the US and apparently, down here as well.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Bruce glanced back to where the other man had been, and saw him getting into a rather modified Sporty RX-7.

“And him?”

“His name is Han. And like I said, he’s here for the racing.”

“And just where is this racing?”

“Apparently, there’s a race this Saturday night, down at the old dockyards near the water. Han gave me the info, and told me he’d make sure we could get in, if we’d wanted to?”

Bruce figured that his wife likely wanted to go, and he had to admit...he was intrigued as well? 

“You want to go, don’t you.”

“Not if it’s going to be a problem for you.”

“Faith...”

“Han said he’d make sure I’d had a ride, if I wanted to go.”

“Excuse me?” Bruce growled, “He offered to take you himself?”

Faith threw back her head and giggled, and it was only when she felt Bruce’s anger slam into her, that she calmed down enough to say succinctly, “No. Han offered to sponsor a ride for me. Which means, he’ll have a car ready for me to race if I want to take advantage of it.”

“ _Why_ would he do that?” Bruce queried defensively, as they reached their SUV.

“Maybe because he wants the payout for the race, and knows that as good as he is? I’m better.”

“Really?”

“Never lost a race yet.”

The door closed, and Faith could feel Bruce’s reluctance, but she sensed he was intrigued too.

“I’ve never seen a street race.”

“It’s much different than the ones you might’ve seen on the tube.”

“What kind of car did you drive in Cleveland?”

“It’s still there.” Faith said seriously. “In storage. It’s a retro mod Nissan Nismo 350Z. Built it myself.”

“Excuse me?” Bruce turned and eyed her like he’d never seen her before. “You? Built a race car?”

“What, like it’s hard? What did you think I did with my days when I wasn’t out Slaying, Krasivyy? I told you, I don’t watch much TV, and I’m not a huge reader. I have a lot of energy and needed to find ways to release it. Tinkering with stuff helped. Vinny Kwasniack was a local car guy who lived down the street from me. He let me work in his garage on the weekends, when no one was around. I used special polyurethane gloves when I worked, so I didn’t ruin my hands for slaying.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”

“Well, I’d thought I did. I’d told you, I raced.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily translate to you working on your own car?”

“Of course it does, silly. Everyone knows that!”

“ _Obviously not everyone.”_ He bit out petulantly, and Faith smirked at how put out he looked. 

“Are you upset with me?”

“No.” He huffed, “I’m just surprised.”

“ _Well get over it,_ ” she mocked, “I’m sure there’s going to be many times in our lives together where we shock the hell out of each other. But if you react like this to something so ridiculous as my street racing? How should I take it when I have a dream to share? Should I walk around on eggshells all day, hoping you don’t lose your cool or act like a _jerk_?”

Paling slightly, Bruce could see Faith’s body language shifting, and he shook his head.

“Don’t, Gorgeous!” He pleaded softly. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Faith sniffled, her eyes glistening in the oncoming light, and Bruce was desperate to hold her, but had to refrain until they got back to their hotel...so he held her hand and kissed her knuckles several times soothingly, cupping her face and keeping eye contact.

“Love you.” He mouthed silently, and her voice ebbed into his mind as it always did, warm and soft—repeating his own words back to him. 

Thankfully, they got back to their hotel rather quickly, and once they were up in their suite, Bruce lifted his wife into his arms and kissed her breathless. 

It wasn’t long after, that they were naked on their bed, and Bruce was buried inside his wife’s perfect body, thrusting into her like a man possessed. 

Hours later, after several rounds of lovemaking, Faith laid curled into Bruce’s side...her hands running soothing circles on his chest and every few moments, his lips would make contact with the top of her head in a sweet kiss. 

It wasn’t until the sun faded, and the shadows started creeping into the room, that Bruce finally spoke up. 

“I’m _sorry_ , Gorgeous. I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked with how much you continuously surprise me, and I hope that _never_ changes. I just wasn’t expecting to have you run into someone on our honeymoon that you knew. It threw me a bit.”

“I know.” She whispered back. “I wasn’t expecting it either but the truth is, you know so many more people than I do, Krasivyy. There’s going to be many more times where I’m going to be at the disadvantage of your past, than vice versa. It’s okay, and I get it.”

“I know you do.” He admitted sincerely, “And you’ve been wonderful. I’m sorry if you think you can’t feel safe enough to share your dreams with me.”

Faith frowned at how morose Bruce sounded, and she sat up and stared down into his sad expression. 

“Bruce, of course I trust you. It’s just not an easy thing to share. When I was younger, all my Slayer dreams were rather horrible. Death, pain, monsters...it seemed as if I couldn’t catch a break, even when I was asleep. Years later, I tried to understand that the Powers were more likely to give Buffy portents of the future due the fact that she’s the chosen one. I’ve come to understand that it was my own lack of control and rage that made me more susceptible to the darker part of my Slayer powers.”

“Hence, why your dreams were always dark?”

“Yep. When I had the dream about Damian, it was the first time I’d ever had a Slayer dream that wasn’t filled with bad stuff.”

“And the dream that you’d had last night? Was it a good dream?”

She nodded and averted her gaze, and Bruce could see her body stiffening slightly and that had him confused. 

Why was she so hesitant to tell him?

“Gorgeous? Just _tell_ me. I promise it’ll be fine, whatever it is.”

Her brown eyes locked back with his, and he immediately sat up and wiped the stray tears from her face gently. 

Lovingly...

“Tell me, _please_?”

Faith took a deep breath—even as she tried to get a sense over just how she wanted to share this particular news with Bruce. 

Would he be happy? 

She didn’t think she could handle it, if he checked out on her again...

“I was in a grove of trees...” she began hesitantly, “and I could smell the flowers and earth...and it smelled like, home. I didn’t even know where I was at. I didn’t recognize anything. So I walked on this winding path that eventually led me out onto a large, grassy lawn—and in the distance was the largest, most beautiful building I think that I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“What was it?”

“A palace.”

Bruce nodded thoughtfully, “Do you know which one? I’m assuming you were in Russia?”

“Yes,” she admitted evenly, “There were hundreds of windows, large white columns, and the marble stone facing was a pretty blue, almost exactly the same color that I picked out for the kitchen at Wayne Manor.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed, as he considered this and then his eyes lit up with sudden comprehension. “The Hermitage?”

“Yep.”

“Wow! So what happened next?”

“I walked towards the palace, but there was no one around. When I got to the front, the steps led inside and the door was open, beckoning me to go inside, which I did. I called out, but no one answered me. After a while, as I was just wandering around inside—I heard the sound of laughter. So I went to investigate it.”

“And did you find the source?”

“I did.” She bit her lip, and Bruce’s gaze narrowed at his wife’s sudden discomfort. She had averted her eyes again, and her hands were fidgeting with the blanket. Scooting forward, Bruce gripped her face and turned her back towards himself as he begged, “Tell me.”

“I saw my Great-grandfather.”

Bruce’s breath caught in surprise. “Nicholas?”

“Yes.”

“Okay? Was he alone?”

“No.”

“Faith, who was with him?”

“Damian.”

Bruce flinched back in shock, as his mouth opening and closing several times in succession—and Faith could tell he was floored. 

“ _Okay_?” He finally croaked out, but at that split second—Faith’s eyes shifted away again and he knew, there was more...

“Who else was there, Gorgeous?”

“Promise me, that you won’t get upset?”

“Faith, I promise. Who else was there?”

Deep brown doe eyes fluttered back to his own, and like a faucet being turned on, tears started leaking from Faith’s eyes. 

“Damian’s little brother and sister.” She replied so quietly, that Bruce was almost certain he’d imagined it, and he might’ve thought so too—if not for the stark fear in Faith’s eyes. 

_Shit! She was afraid that he was going to bail on her again._

“Gorgeous?” He swallowed a few times, trying to will his voice not to crack. “Are you _saying_?”

She nodded sharply, biting her lip hard, desperately trying to keep her wayward emotions at bay...and totally unprepared for Bruce’s reaction...

As his own tears fell from his hazel eyes...

“Another son and a daughter?” He whispered out achingly. 

She nodded again, unable to form the exact words.

“ _Oh my God_!” His face morphed instantly into a beaming, bright, happy smile and her obvious relief was palpable, as she hiccoughed and started to sob in earnest. “ _Shhh...I’m so sorry, my love.”_

He pulled her into his lap and held her tightly into his body, allowing his sweet wife to let go of the fear and hurt that she’d been holding in all day. 

He was such an idiot and would probably need to spend the rest of his life making it up to her—for how much he’d broken her trust, when she’d told him about Damian. 

“And their names?” He whispered into her hair, his hands running over her naked flesh soothingly. 

Calmly...

It was another five minutes before Faith spoke and when she did, her voice was hoarse and wavering. 

“Micheal Alfred Aleksandrovich Wayne.”

She felt Bruce nod into the side of her cheek and his voice cracked slightly, as he queried emotively, “And our daughter?”

“Zarina Anastasia Martha Wayne.”

She could feel his body shaking and when she pulled back and glanced up into Bruce’s face, his cheeks were just as wet as her own. 

“Perfect.” He nodded sincerely. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Gorgeous. You’re perfect.” 

He kissed her then, and it was so full of raw feeling that Faith felt her heart crack and reform in that moment. She was so afraid how Bruce was going to react, and perhaps she should’ve known better, but that fear would probably subconsciously be there for a while. 

As he rolled her underneath his body, Bruce’s mouth never left hers for a second. Not when she wrapped her legs around his waist...

...not when he pushed himself into her core...

...not when he pounded into her with abandon...

...and not when they both came simultaneously, their bodies convulsing with the sheer pleasure of their combined passion. 

When they did finally come up for air, Faith’s lips felt bee-stung and swollen, but she couldn’t help the smile that broke free across her face. 

“I love you.” 

“And I you, so much, Gorgeous. Thank you.”

“For what.”

“For loving me, and believing in me. But mostly? For just being you.”


	70. Counteroffers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart and Rona come to an agreement about their future.

Faith had been gone for nearly a week, and Rona along with Violet, were about to head back to New York. They’d talked with Alfred at length about the dogs, and whether or not to bring Baba and Yaga with them, but surprisingly, the not-so-little monsters were perfectly content hanging with Mr. Pennyworth. Violet suspected that the dogs preferred being where they could smell the scents of their owners, and Rona had to admit that was probably a good assumption. 

Bart had left Gotham Monday evening, as he’d had a business meeting Tuesday later in the morning that he’d needed to be back for. They’d spent all day Sunday and most of Monday morning in bed, fucking each other’s brains out, between sleeping, eating and bathing. When he’d left, he’d promised to call her the next day. 

But he _hadn’t_. 

When Tuesday fell into Wednesday and still no call, Rona figured that Bart had decided perhaps this with her, wasn’t what he’d wanted. 

So she’d been somewhat surprised when her phone had rang early Thursday morning, and it was Bart calling. 

She’d let it go to voice mail. 

And subsequently did the same with the next three calls over the ensuing 12 hours. 

She’d refused to listen to her messages either, and Violet had just rolled her eyes at her knowingly. 

“You know? He might’ve had a really good reason for not calling? Are you even going to check your messages? You’re acting like a girl in high school who’s boyfriend blew her off. Bart Bass is a busy man, Rona.”

“I know, Vi. And I’m a busy Slayer.”

“True.” The red-head winked. “Just listen to his messages, and then delete them if you don’t like what he has to say.”

“Fine.”

Pulling out her phone, Rona hit #1 on her speed dial and punched in her key code to listen to her voicemails...

_Rona...hey. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to call before now, but there was an emergency issue with one of our suppliers in Germany and I’ve just landed in Berlin. Please call me..._

She hit #7 to delete the message, before the next one started to play...

_Rona? It’s Bart. I’m still in Germany and I’ll be here for another day. Why aren’t you picking up your phone. Are you alright? Call me..._

That message too, got deleted and then the next one played...

_Rona. Where the fuck are you? Did something happen? I know you haven’t left Gotham yet, so why aren’t you picking up your phone? Call me..._

Then the last message filtered through the phone...

_Rona...(there was a heavy sigh and when Bart’s voice came through the line, it sounded tired)...I don’t know why you’re not picking up nor why you haven’t called me. Part of me is wondering if you’re regretting what happened between us, but I don’t think that’s it. My sweet girl, if something is bothering you, I can’t fix it if you won’t talk to me. I’m on my way back to New York. If you don’t call me, you’re going to leave me no choice but to hunt you down. Which I will, little girl...I miss you..._

And there it was...

Her face lifted into a slight smile and Violet, who had been watching her best friend closely, and had known about her feelings towards Bart Bass for a while now, had to wonder just what Rona was thinking.

Scrolling through her call log, Rona punched in the right number and hit send...

He picked up on the second ring...

“Hello, little girl.” Rona felt her gut clench at how utterly masculine Bart sounded, even over the fucking phone. 

“Mr. Bass. You called?”

“I did. Several times, in fact. Mind telling me why you’ve been screening your calls?”

“I wasn’t screening my calls.”

“No?”

“Not as such.”

“Then _what_ was it?”

Rona sighed. “I don’t know.”

“No?”

“Not as such.”

Bart chuckled, and she could just picture that fucking smug smirk plastered on his chiseled face. 

“Have you at least missed me?”

“Yes.”

“Well that’s something, I suppose.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in London.”

“For?”

“I needed to pick up a few things here and I’ll be heading home in the morning tomorrow. Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Are we eating in or going out?”

“What would you prefer?”

“I don’t have a preference.” She lied, and then smiled when she heard Bart’s laughter over the phone. 

“Sure you don’t. I seem to recall my very beautiful girl, telling me not so very long ago, that all she needed was a hotel room, a large bed...”

“ _And you deep inside of me..._ ” she finished in challenge, and heard Bart’s swift intake of breath. 

“Yes, I do believe that’s _exactly_ what you’d said.”

“We are leaving Gotham today, and heading back to my place in Hell’s Kitchen. Should be there by early evening, dependent on traffic.”

“And you’re prevaricating, but it’s no matter. Dinner, tomorrow, my suite—seven pm sharp. Oh and Rona?”

“Yes, Rich man?”

“I might’ve had my chef stock my personal freezer with vanilla ice cream. I also might’ve picked up some things in Germany whilst I was there. Just thought you might like to know.”

Rona smiled. “I see.” She purred. “Seems that great minds, think alike.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm. I suppose however, that you’ll have to wait and see what I’ve bought for you, Mr. Bass.”

“Looking forward for it, beautiful girl. I’ve missed your taste.”

“Ditto.”

His deep, sensuous laughter always did funny things to her nether regions, but now? 

Her panties were totally ruined. 

“See you tomorrow.”

“Safe flight, Mr. Bass.”

And she hung up.

Violet, who was sitting down on the edge of her bed, was grinning at her. 

“You have that man right where you want him.”

“Maybe.” Rona bit her lip and then sighed. 

“What is it, really?”

“I know he says he wants me now, but I know that man. He lives for the hunt and the kill just as much as we do Vi, and I’m afraid if I make it too easy for him? He’ll lose interest, and where will that leave me?”

“Rona, come on? Have you seen you? You’re a hottie, always have been. Okay, no one is as gorgeous as Faith, but we’re not grading on that scale, right? Every man who’s ever seen Faith, has wanted her. Bass wasn’t immune to her charms, but that’s not a fair standard either. Is that what it is? You think he’s settling for you, because Faith wasn’t available?”

“Not really. I know our Sister Slayer is a man magnet. God Bless Bruce Wayne, that he’s just as much of a chick magnet...because they are _perfect_ for each other. But this has more to do with what I’ve read about Bart and also what I’ve seen over the years. I’ve listened, watched and chronicled his exploits. He loves adventure, he’s a dynamo at business and he’s just as eligible as Bruce was. Maybe I’m a tad obsessed, but...”

“You’ve been in love with him for years, haven’t you?”

Rona sighed, and collapsed onto the floor, crossed her legs and nodded once. 

“So much. I know he has a darker side to him, and I also know he loves his son.” Rona bit her lip, as she averted her gaze and stared out the window of her room. “I saw him, years ago with his second wife...they’d visited my family home, and my Dad let them stay the night.”

“Did you go spying?”

“Maybe?”

“Naughty girl.”

“Yeah, well...sue me. You would’ve too, if you’d seen what a fucking hunk he was back then. The man has only gotten better with age.”

“He is rather handsome, if you like that chiseled, silver fox look.”

“He keeps himself fit.”

“And his size?”

“Very nice. I’ve had a few lovers longer, but none thicker.” Rona put up her hands in a circular pattern and Violet nodded. 

“So definitely adequate.”

“Well, he’s no slouch. And he does know how to use the damn thing very well.”

“So again, what’s the deal?” Violet plopped herself down and gave her bestie a nudge with her shoulder. “Is it the age thing? Rona? Does this have anything to do with wanting kids someday?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted with a a sigh. “Bart has Chuck, and I’m fairly certain I heard him tell my dad he’d had a vasectomy before he’d married Misty the tart...so there’s that.”

“Wow!” Violet hummed, “That’s a big deal.”

“Yep. Which means, that if I ever want to have a family someday?”

“You can’t have both Bart and kids?”

“Most likely.”

“Vasectomies can be reversed, you know?”

“I do know that, but I think the longer it’s been, the less chance it’ll take.”

“And how long ago?”

“Ten years at least.”

“Shit.”

“I know.”

Both of the girls sat there in the quiet and considered the situation, before Violet queried, “Is it a deal breaker?”

“No. I love him. I’ve always loved him. But now? I have a real chance to be with him. To have the life I’d never dreamed I could have, and yet there’s a part of me that feels saddened by the fact that I’ll never know what it’s like to have his child. I see Faith, and see how happy she and Bruce are and there’s a part of me that wants that too. But the only person I’ve ever wanted that with is Bart Bass.”

“Damned if you do?”

“Shut it, Vi...but...yeah?”

“I think you should talk to him about this. Maybe not soon, but at some point. Don’t go begging for trouble. Enjoy this time with him and see what happens? There may be options you don’t know about, right?”

“Maybe.” Rona shook her head. “He’s going to be forty-six at the end of the year. There’s not much time left, if I want to do this and frankly, I’m not sure I’m ready to be a mom anytime soon.”

“So then you have two choices, the way I see it? First, realize that you need to speak up and go from there, or second? Don’t say anything and just enjoy what you do have with Bart.”

“Seems simple enough.”

“Except it’s not.”

“Damn right, but it is what it is. If I have to choose between a hypothetical kid or a living, breathing Bart Bass? It’s not even a contest.”

“You love him that much?”

“I do. I always will.”

“Then I think you know your answer, Rona...right?”

The older girl nodded, and stood up, holding out her hand for her friend. 

“Come on. Let’s get packed. We still have a drive ahead of us.”

They’d made it out of Gotham and into New York by dinner time. Late that night they went out patrolling, but there wasn’t much activity to be had. The next day found Rona sleeping in late, and heading to her favorite coffee shop and pastry place in lower Manhattan, when she saw a familiar face that she’d never expected to see again. 

_What the fuck was she doing here in New York. Hadn’t Bart said he’d run her out of town?_

Rona discreetly watched the woman, who had designer sunglasses on, and a large hat but was still fairly easy to recognize. As she sipped on her dulce americano, and picked at her apple fritter, Rona didn’t have too to long to wait until Misty the tart, had company. 

The man who sat down across from her was also easily recognizable, and Rona’s gaze narrowed from behind her own sunglasses as the younger version of Bart Bass, kissed the woman on the cheek and the two started to converse in earnest. Misty handed Jack something, an envelope of some kind, and after about thirty minutes, she got up to leave. Rona decided it was better to follow Jack, and she waited until he’d paid his bill—before she stood up and went over to refill her coffee cup nonchalantly. She smiled at the waitress and gave her a nice tip, watching Jack in the window as he walked down the street to the south. 

She waited about thirty seconds before she followed him. 

She called Violet once she’d made her way out of Soho. 

“Hey Rona, what’s up?”

“Where are you?”

Violet told her and luckily, she was only about a block east of her. Rona told her to head west and meet up two blocks down. 

When Violet was in her sights, she gestured towards Jack, and Rona turned into a store front, watching as Jack continued on and Violet took over surveillance.

It was about thirty minutes later that Vi called her. 

“Hey. I’m on Broadway and Thomas Street.”

“Where did he go?”

“Into an office building on Thomas Street—at least, I think it is.”

“Okay, take a picture of it and if you can? See who has offices there.”

“Got it.”

“Meet me at the corner on White in thirty?”

“Sounds good.”

Rona waited outside the wine shop located on the corner of Broadway and White, for Violet to show...which she did at the appointed time. 

“Got it.”

“Let’s see.”

Violet brought up the pictures and Rona scrolled through the name plates on the outside of the building until one she’d recognized, popped into view. 

“I know this name.”

“Who?” Violet peered down. “Diana Payne?”

“Yes. She’s a businesswoman from LA. My Dad has done a few deals with her in the past.”

“So you think that’s who Jack Bass went to see?”

“Maybe? But why? Bart told me he ran his brother and Misty out of New York and while it’s a big city? There’s no way they’d come back unless they were planning something big.”

“What do you think it is?”

“Nothing good.” Rona snarked. “Did you manage to get a shot of Jack at all?”

“No. I couldn’t without him noticing me.”

“That’s okay, at least we know where he was going. Now I just have to figure out the why.”

They took a cab back to Hell’s Kitchen, and Rona brought up her laptop and did some investigating on her own. After about an hour, she grabbed her phone and sent off a text.

_Hey..._

It was about ten minutes later she got a response back.

**What’s up kiddo?**

_Sorry to bother you, but I need a favor..._

**Sure, what’s up?”**

_I was wondering if either Lucius or Alfred might be able to do a background for me?_

**Who’s the target?**

_Her name is Diana Payne._

It was a few minutes before Faith replied again. 

**Bruce knows the name. What’s the play?**

_I saw Bart’s younger brother Jack Bass today here in New York with Bart’s ex-wife of all people. Something fishy is going down. They were meeting and she gave him a package, which I think he might’ve taken to Diana Payne. It would help if I could find out where he’s holding up at._

**I’ll tell Bruce and have him call Lucius...**

_Thanks, Mom. I owe you one._

**You’re the worst, but it’s fine.**

_Have fun..._

**I was...**

Rona grinned. 

_Don’t let me keep you then..._

**You weren’t ;)**

Rona broke down into a gale of giggles and Violet, hearing her friend—came in to ask what was going on. When Rona told her, Violet joined in on the joke. 

“It’s a good thing she’s preggers, because if she wasn’t? She would be soon enough.” Vi quipped, and Rona nodded in agreement. 

“I’m going to go take a shower and get ready for my...whatever it is tonight.”

“Booty call?”

“Shut it, Vi!”

Ninety minutes later, Rona was putting a few things in her backpack when her phone dinged. 

Glancing down, an address popped up on the screen. 

“Damn!” Rona whispered in awe. Whomever Bruce had working on this, was awesome. 

She now had an tentative address for Jack Bass.

Looking down at her phone, Rona realized she barely had enough time to take a cab to Jack’s address before making her way to Bart’s hotel. 

Grabbing her backpack and leather jacket, she told Violet where she was going and headed on out. 

Thirty minutes later, Rona was in TriBeCa, on Vestry, staring up at the address that Faith had gotten for her. Bart’s hotel was at least thirty blocks away, and Rona had to wonder if this was a coincidence with Jack being rather far away in proximity. 

Moving towards the building entrance at 39 Vestry, Rona noticed it was quaint with a brick facade and no security that she could see. She was about to turn and leave, when she saw Misty—the Tart, walking into the building. 

She waited until the woman was inside, and then followed her in. 

And right to the fourth floor. 

Peeking around the corner, Rona saw Misty knock at the farthest condo at the end of the hallway and sure enough, Jack Bass opened the door. He scooped her up and kissed her, leading her inside. Rona waited for a few moments and was about to leave, when she heard laughter, and then Misty’s voice as Jack’s door opened again. 

She moved down the hall, and grabbed a package out of her bag, and a piece of paper, making it seem like she was looking for an apartment. As soon as they rounded the corner, she turned with her back to them and moved to another apartment, making to knock at the door. 

She listened inside for any noise, but her heightened senses didn’t pick up on anything so she knocked softly and waited as Jack and Misty passed her by. She waited and minute and knocked again, and thankfully, no one opened up. 

Obviously not home. 

Opening her bag to look for something to write with, making like she was leaving whomever it was a note, Rona could see out of the corner of her eye, Jack and Misty heading out of the building. 

Checking the time, it was almost seven. She texted Bart and told him she’d be a little late, and he’d responded back with a— _Fine, but hurry..._

Rona glanced back towards the front of the building, and not seeing Jack nor Misty, she hurried towards Jack’s apartment. Checking the lock, she noted is was dead bolted, fuck...

...not quite as easy to get in as she’d hoped. But not impossible. 

Deciding to come back when she had more time, Rona made her way out of the building and hailed a cab to take her to Bart’s hotel, back in midtown. 

When she got there, she was about forty minutes late, and found Bart in his suite, waiting rather impatiently for her. 

If the searing kiss he gave her was any indication of his mindset. 

“Where were you?”

“Do you want the truth?”

Bart eyed her skeptically, but nodded all the same. 

“Always, beautiful girl. You know this.”

“TriBeCa.”

“What were you doing there? That’s well out of your way.”

“Yes and no. I just so happened to be in Soho this morning, grabbing brunch at my favorite hang out, when I saw an old friend.”

“Who?”

“Your ex.”

“ _Excuse me?”_

“Mmhmm, and you’ll never guess who she was meeting with?”

Bart’s gaze narrowed as he bit out, “Whom?”

“Your brother, Jack.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Bart. I’m _sure_. Hence why I was in TriBeCa. But before that happened, I followed Jack this afternoon with Vi’s help. He ended up at an office building off of Thomas and Broadway. Is there anyone you know who has offices there?”

Rona could see the cogs turning in Bart’s mind as he sat down and considered what he knew of the area and whom Jack might be meeting with. When his grey eyes settled on her, she could see a hint of admiration and something else not easily defined. 

“I know a few people there.”

“Diana Payne?”

Bart smirked and nodded. “Yes. Is that where you think he went?”

“Possibly. Violet got pictures of the office building she saw him go into. Her name was on the list. Also, when I went to TriBeCa? I saw your ex, and your brother, well...I’m sure I don’t need to draw you a diagram, right?”

Bart’s expression soured, and from the piercing gleam in his eyes, Rona was fairly certain she didn’t need to draw him a damn thing. 

“You’ve been busy.” Was all he said, and Rona shrugged. 

“Eh, I was bored.”

He chuckled, his eyes warming before he held out his hand, which she took and was immediately pulled into his lap—as he nipped her neck in welcome. He then tilted her head towards him and kissed her breathless, groaning in satisfaction at her taste. 

“Missed you, little girl.” He whispered, as he pulled back slightly. 

“Missed you too, rich man.”

His lips quirked playfully, then he stood up with her in his arms and carried her back to his bedroom. 

“I need to fuck you now. We can discuss corporate raiding later, yes?”

“Well, if you _must.”_

“I do.”

And boy did he ever...

He laid her out on his bed and undressed her methodically: kissing, licking and sucking on every piece of flesh exposed to his hungry gaze. Then he buried himself between her thighs and seemed quite content wringing orgasm after orgasm out of her...

Then he flipped her over, pulled her on all fours and took her from behind. 

Which had her screaming his name several times in succession, as she came so hard—she literally saw stars...

But it seemed as if Bart Bass was a man, on a mission—and that mission was to turn her into a heaving, begging, screeching puddle of orgasmic satisfaction.

Not to say she didn’t do her part, too. 

Rona had, around the 2am mark, tied Bart to his bed and spent a good thirty minutes sucking him off, only to deny him...repeatedly. She’d put a cock ring on him and finally got him to beg...

“I don’t think so, Rich Man...”

Then she’d grabbed the small plug she’d purchased in Gotham, warmed and lubed it up, and slowly inserted it...all the while her eyes never strayed from the blackened, grey ones gazing down at her like she was his everything. 

Once the plug was placed, Rona pounced and straddled Bart and ridden him languorously for a while, his pained-pleasured groans and grunts even better than anything she’d ever fantasized about. 

She rubbed her hands down her body and played with her clit, while Bart’s gaze was scope-locked onto where they were joined, his hands clamped onto her hips like a fucking vice. 

“Fuck, beautiful girl...”

His neck arched and his body bowed up into hers at the force of his orgasm...

And he screamed her name too. 

By the 4am mark, they were finally both spent and sated. 

For the moment anyway. 

He held her to him, his hands roaming down her body possessively, but not solely meant to arouse. However, just being in proximity to him was ruinous for her self control. 

“I almost thought I’d imagined the whole thing.” He grumbled in his deep voice. 

“Oh?”

“Yes.” He hummed, “I kept asking myself all week, what would you want with me.”

Rona rolled over to face him and she could feel her face pull into a heavy frown as she considered her lover. 

“And what conclusions did you draw?”

“That it didn’t matter, as long as you were in my bed.”

“That seems rather pragmatic of you. Are you sure you’re _feeling_ okay?”

Bart’s lips lifted and he chortled softly, his eyes soft and expression open. 

“See? That’s what I mean, Rona. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m the one at the disadvantage. You’ve spent years understanding who I am, and I don’t know you in the same way. I don’t even know what you like to do for fun? I don’t know what your favorite ice cream is?”

“Chocolate chip.”

“And what your favorite color is?”

“Grey.”

“Why?”

“Do you want the true answer or the practiced one?”

He grinned. 

“Truth, my beautiful girl. Always.”

“It reminds me of your eyes.”

He nodded, somewhat expecting that answer, but still flattered hearing it. 

“And favorite movie?”

“Probably Wall Street.”

“Really? _Why_?”

“Because for all its ridiculousness, there’s some real lessons in there about life and people. Greed can be good, in the right circumstances. Greed for life, for happiness, for sex, for love. But the flip side is a cautionary tale on how greed isn’t so hot. That if you spend too much time pursuing greed, you become a slave to it. I think that’s true for all the seven deadly sins. Everything needs a balance. Having money is a tool, but it’s not the end game.”

“And what is?”

“ _Freedom_. Freedom to choose how you live your life, how you play the game. The more freedom you have, the more power you have and the better your odds are at winning.”

Bart sat up and pulled Rona into his lap, having her straddle him so he could read her expression better. 

“And do you play to win?”

“Kinda have to, Rich man.” She quipped seriously. “When I go out and Slay, there’s no medal for second place. It’s life or death. If I don’t fight, I die. Being hyper vigilant as a Slayer, has taught me that those traits translate well into the daytime world. You are more aware of your surroundings, less trusting of the world in general and live harder and more fiercely because of it. So if I had to take a guess on why your brother is here in New York now? With the tart?”

“Yes?”

“It’s not you he’s after.”

“Oh, and who is he after?”

“Chuck. Your son, Bart. He’s your only weakness. Jack knows this, as does Misty, I’d imagine. Chuck has shares in Bass Incorporated, right?”

“He does.”

“And if something were to happen to Chuck, where do those shares go?”

Bart sat back and frowned. “Chuck retains the voting rights for his stock.”

“I get that.” Rona supplied softly, “However, if Chuck were incapacitated or unable to vote his shares? Who would do so in the aggregate?”

“Myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why are you asking me this, Rona?”

“Look, we both know to go corporate raiding you would have to do it one of three ways, right? Buy the stock on the open market, accumulate enough for a tender offer to be made. Gain controlling interest in the company...Or...devaluation of the stock by margining the futures market. It wouldn’t need to be a lot, if Chuck has even a ten percent stake in Bass Incorporated? They would just need to find a way to gain access.”

“By?”

“If it was me?”

“Yes...”

“I’d get his fingerprints and access codes, and make the futures trades as him. We both know what would happen to your company stock should that happen? Isn’t that what you did to Miranda Tate?”

Bart sat back and smiled so widely, Rona thought this face was going to split in two. 

“Yes it was, and it would trigger a sell off.”

“Yes, and what stock you were left with, once that happened? Wouldn’t be enough to sustain the losses. It would devalue Bass stock just enough, that it would be ripe for a corporate takeover. Hello, Diana Payne.”

Bart sat up and gripped her to him, kissing her breathless for several minutes. When he pulled back his grey eyes were clearly assessing her...but it was another few minutes before he stated very seriously, “ _Name your price, Rona Steward. Tell me what you want from me, and it’s yours.”_

“What?”

“You heard me, my beautiful girl. _Name it._ Tell me what I want to hear.”

“Bart?” She whispered in shock. “What are you saying here?”

“You know what I’m saying. I’m telling you that you can have _whatever_ you want from me. Just ask, and it’s yours.”

Rona sat back stunned, her eyes taking in the completely truthful countenance of a one Bart Bass, and wishing more than anything, that she had Faith’s ability to read emotions. 

“That’s a very loaded promise, Rich man. I don’t think you really want to go there.”

She tried to scramble off his bed, but Bart held her fast...rolling her over so he was now hovering almost threateningly.

“You’re _not_ leaving!” He snarled in warning. “Not now, not _ever._ Tell me, Rona. I know there’s been something weighing on you this past week, hence why you were screening your calls. Maybe it started out as being upset when I didn’t call you right away. I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you before I left the country but in my defense? My first instinct has always been business and that has to change. So I’m telling you right here and now, that I’m putting you first. Whatever you want from me, it’s _yours_ —but you need to tell me what has you running scared. What is it you’re not telling me?”

She bit her lip and gazed up into stormy grey eyes that were bottomless like the rain clouds hovering over the ocean on a winters day. Eyes that she would see every night when she’d closed her eyes and fell into her dreams of Bart Bass, and what she’d wanted for her future. 

But how do you say the actual words, wondering if it would ruin everything?

“I’m not...”

“Don’t!” He gritted out. “We both know it’s something. And it must be rather important if you’re refusing to tell me?”

She averted her gaze in that second, so she’d missed Bart’s look of comprehension settle before it shifted into something more neutral. He was fairly certain he knew what this was about, but he needed to hear Rona say it. 

He’d talked to Robert Wednesday night, when Rona hadn’t call him back, and his friend had asked him a single question that he hadn’t even considered, and dismissed initially as folly, but _now_? 

He had a pretty good idea that Robert was likely right in what he’d surmised. 

“Rona, tell me?”

Amber eyes shifted back to his, and she sighed in defeat. 

“When you look into your future, what do you see?”

“You.”

“And?”

Bart smirked arrogantly, as he now knew Robert was dead on. 

“What do you see?” He challenged. 

“Not fair.” She whispered out pained. 

“No, but you know me, my perfect girl...that I don’t play fair. I play to win.”

“This isn’t a game, Bass!” Rona screeched and pushed at his chest—which shoved him off of her. She stood up and pointed her finger at him angrily. “ _This_ isn’t a game...”

“Then what is it, Rona? What do you _want_ this to be?”

She shook her head and went to grab her clothes, but Bart rushed off his bed and picked her up into his arms...lifting her naked body up along his so his arms were wrapped around her waist and back as he held her fast. 

“No running. No prevarication. Tell me, Rona...my sweet, perfect, _wonderful girl._ Tell me what you want from me? I need to hear you say it. I’m not going to guess, and I’m not going to say the words for you.”

“I hate you right now.” She bit out hoarsely. 

“No, you don’t. You never have and something tells me you never will.”

Shaking her head, Rona tilted her head down on Bart’s shoulder even as his grip tightened. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, Bart Bass. And how can I ask of you something I’m not sure you’d ever give to me under normal circumstances. In all my dreams of you, and in all the ways I’d wished for you in my life? I’d wanted what every young girl wants. Love, home and a family to call my own. I love you. I’ve _always_ loved you, Bart Bass—and something tells me that I’ll always love you.”

She felt his soft lips on the side of her neck coaxing her to lift her head, and when she refused...he pleaded softly, “Look at me, Rona. Let me see you.”

She sniffled, but unable to deny him, she lifted her head and Bart’s breath hitched at the raw pain there. 

Did she really think he’d deny her?

“A home is a fairly simple thing, and not.” She said emotively. “When my Mom died, it was like I didn’t have a home anymore. I lost both my parents that day.”

“Baby girl...”

“ _Don’t, Bart!_ We both know it’s true. My Dad checked out on me, and all I could think about was— could I ever do that to my own child? What kind of parent would I be? Then in college, the Bringers came for me. They were minions of the First Evil and they nearly killed my roommate. I barely got away. When I got to Sunnydale, there were about fifteen potentials already there, but several had died trying. They’d never made it. The months that followed were a shit show, and then Buffy gave us the choice. To fight or to die. I chose to fight. I almost died that day, but the Powers spared me. So I vowed to train myself everyday to be as prepared as possible to face whatever dangers that are out there. Man, monster, demon, vampire? It’s all the same. And I’m damn good at it, too.”

Bart chuckled deeply, his subtle nod making her heart swell. 

“Go on.”

“Then we went to Gotham and everything changed. I saw my Sister Slayer, who’s always been tougher and more battle hardened than anyone I’ve ever known? Fall in love with, Bruce Wayne. She got pregnant, and the shit didn’t handle it well at first. Bailed on her for two days while he figured his own shit out. There was a part of me that wanted to pummel the jerk, but I do know what that kind of fear does to you.”

“And what are you afraid of?”

“Losing you. It’s the only thing that scares me.”

“Rona...”

But she placed her hands over his mouth and shushed him. 

“Bart, you’re twenty two years older than me...and while I don’t give a fuck about age...I know what that likely means.”

“And what does it _mean_?”

“That I’d have to choose between you, and having children of my own someday. Part of me thinks that you’d have figured it out at some point and then tried to do the self-sacrificing schtick, convincing yourself that I’d regret not having kids, but the truth is? I want you _more_. And if I can’t have your children, then I just don’t want them at all. In no part of what I’d wished for my future, did it include having a family with someone other than you.”

Rona waited for Bart’s expected reaction, but what she got wasn’t what she’d thought it would be.

“Thank you for telling me. I spoke with Robert the other evening, and when he’d asked me how you were doing? I told him I’d hadn’t heard from you. He’d mentioned that knowing you as he did, that you were probably realizing this very thing. I doubted it at first, but he was right. Baby girl, don’t you know that there’s not a single thing in this world that I wouldn’t give to you if you’d asked it of me? I knew it the second you and Chuck had your conversation, that this was it for me. You’re _it_ for me.”

“Bart...”

“I mean it, and you know me well enough to know that I do. So here’s my counteroffer. I’ll be forty-six by the end of the year. I will go and talk to my physician about if the likelihood of having a vasectomy reversal would work. My guess is, we will have to do IVF at some point. Probably before I’m fifty. So if this is what you want, Rona? I’m all in. Say the word...”

He didn’t get another word in edgewise however, as she slammed her mouth onto his and gripped onto him for dear life, kissing him senseless. It was a while before she disengaged, but when she did? 

Bart thought her beaming smile had never made her look more beautiful. 

Rona didn’t care about his money, nor about what he could give to her. She only wanted him and what they could have together. Something told Bart, if he gave Rona the choice to have 100 billion dollars, or nothing—with only him and their child? She’d choose the later without even hesitating. 

And that was more than he deserved.

And he’d be a fucking idiot to walk away from her...

...and if there was one thing Bart Bass wasn’t?

It was an idiot. 

“You really _mean_ it?” She whispered, her small voice filled with so much hope. 

“Yes.”

“Then I accept your counteroffer, Mr. Bass.”

He chuckled deeply, cupping her cheek with his right hand as his left held her aloft into his body.

“I adore you.”

“I would hope so?” She snarked. “You’re going to be stuck with me.”

“Happily.”

“You say that now.”

“And I’ll always say it, my beautiful girl. I just have one thing I’d like you to seriously consider?”

Rona sighed. “You want me to give my Dad a chance, don’t you?”

“You’re so unexpected, baby girl. You take my breath away.”

“I rather enjoy that part.” She winked, causing him to guffaw again. 

“As do I.” 

He set her down, taking her hand and leading her back to bed. “Sleep?”

“Hmm, is that your only offer?”

He smirked in that way that Rona was beginning to suspect, that he knew what it did to her. His fingers ghosted down her neck, pinched her nipple, skated over her abdomen...cupping it with intent for a split second—before sliding between her legs. His smirk widened at what he’d found there. 

“Such a greedy girl.”

“Only for you.” She whispered pleadingly. “Don’t tease me, not right now.”

Grey eyes shifted as he asked, “And what do you want, little girl?”

“What I’ll always want, Rich man. Now give it to me, _hard_.”

“With pleasure.” 


	71. Ride or Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith enters a street race at the behest of an old acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters in this chapter are from the Fast and Furious franchise and their respective entities. Not me. Although I do miss Paul Walker, as he was always my favorite part of the series.

The Opera had been lovely, and Faith had really enjoyed herself immensely. She’d been surprised with how much she’d been able to suss out just from the emotional music, even if she didn’t understand a word of what they were saying. The press has been there of course, and had taken pictures—so Faith figured they’d be all over the place the next day and sure enough?

 _She was right._

The leading story on the main local reporting were about she and Bruce...their marriage and how they’d decided to come to Argentina for the first stop on their honeymoon.

Dinner with the President of Argentina and his wife had been a nice affair, and Faith had enjoyed herself. They weren’t too stuffy and were eager to share information about the history of Argentina and its people. 

When Saturday evening had finally rolled around, Faith could see that Bruce was becoming agitated. Han had texted her earlier that morning and reaffirmed his willingness to sponsor her ride, should she choose to take advantage of it. Normally, she’d never trust someone else enough to take their ride, but she knew Han well enough to know that if there was one thing she could trust with him?

It was, his ride or die mentality. 

After dinner, she plopped herself down in her husband’s lap, and gave him a knowing look. 

“Are you going to pout for the rest of the night?”

“No,” he replied evenly, “I’m just trying to determine which part of my brain is more likely to win this internal argument I’m currently waging.”

“Oh? And which side is ahead?”

“The intrigued, curious side.”

“Versus?”

“The worried, possessively controlling side.”

“So which one is Bruce and which one is Batman?”

Bruce cracked and grin at that, and then shook his head in wonder. 

“I wish I knew how you did that, Gorgeous.”

“We can go and observe. I don’t have to race.”

“But you’ll want to, right?”

She shrugged, but didn’t deny it at all. 

“I don’t know which one of us craves danger more.” He said at last, and that had Faith snickering. 

“I don’t think this is one of those things we can grade on a curve, Krasivyy. But if it helps you feel any better? I crave you more than anything else.”

“Yeah?”

“Most definitely, stud.”

He laughed. 

“I really love you.”

“And I love you.” 

Gazing up into his wife’s deep brown eyes, Bruce had to admit he was curious. He had no doubt that Faith could handle herself, but his natural instincts were quite adamant about his beautiful wife not putting herself into harms way. 

Especially with her carrying their child. 

Which was ridiculous, considering her abilities as a kick ass Slayer. 

“You done?” She quipped with an indulgent smirk. 

“You know? It’s rather unfair you can read me so well.”

“Yeah, sue me.”

“Fine. Let’s do this. But I reserve the right to put the kibosh on any racing if I don’t think it feels right, okay?”

“Five by five.”

Their security detail brought them to the place, and as they drove up, Bruce’s eyes widened in disbelief. There had to be several hundred people, all hanging out, dancing...and the cars...

Shit...

Some of the cars were truly unique. 

“Unexpected, huh?” Faith asked and he nodded. 

“Definitely not my normal scene, but impressive nonetheless.”

Miguel pulled up and rolled down his window, and a young man probably not much older than twenty was giving him the stink eye. 

“¿Qué quieres hermano?” (What you want, brother?)

“Invitados del Sr.Seúl-oh.” (Guests of Mr. Seoul-oh)

The young man turned his head to look in the back of the armored SUV, and then picked up a walkie-talkie and said a few words in rapid Spanish. 

“¿Nombre?” (Name?)

“Tell him, Faith...Miguel.” Faith offered and the security man nodded, reiterating the command. 

They were immediately waved on through. 

The drive to the main part of the festivities was another mile up the road, and through several gates. When they got to the last one, the smiling face of Han was waiting for them. 

Miguel got out of the SUV, followed by Eduardo and then Jorge. The latter opened Bruce’s door and then the man himself walked around and opened the opposite side door for his wife. The second she came into view, all the people standing around, turned and stared. 

Han however, had no such issues as he came over, immediately clasping hands with Faith in an informal greeting. 

“I didn’t think you were going to show.” Han quipped, popping a chip into his mouth. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” She winked. “Still on the no smoking wagon?”

“Yeah, you?” Faith sighed and nodded—and black eyes turned and smirked at the man who was standing next to Faith, and Han had to admit, the papers didn’t do Bruce Wayne any justice at all. The man was clearly trained in some kind of combat, most likely in south east Asia. There had been rumors in the Bhutanese underground that an American had trained with the League of Shadows. Han had never put much stock into those kinds of things, but now he had to wonder if there wasn’t some truth to it. 

He knew enough about Faith to know there was more than met the eye with her as well.

“Han Seoul-oh?”

“It works.” Was all he said, and Faith grinned. 

“Whatever. Han, this is my husband, Bruce Wayne. Bruce, this is Han whatever he wants to be called today.”

Both men smirked, but Bruce offered his hand and Han shook it.

“Have you ever been to a street race, Bruce?”

“No.” Bruce glanced around and noted that many eyes were fixated on them. “Can’t say that I’ve ever even heard of this kind of nightlife, before I met my wife.”

“Well, welcome.” Han waved them forward and nodded to a few people. “Street racing subculture is huge around the world. Every scene is a bit different. In LA for example? It’s very high tech retro mods, NOS boosters and car clubs. In Tokyo, it’s all about the drifting. Here in Argentina, it’s a bit of both.”

“Drifting?” Bruce asked with interest. 

“He really is a virgin, Faith.” Han quipped, causing Bruce to scowl—while Faith just snorted indignantly. 

“You’re such a _pain_.”

Han shrugged, escorting them inside a large amphitheater where the music bass was thumping, women were dressed rather scantily, and hot cars were aplenty. 

Faith smirked as Bruce’s eyes widened at the sights. She was wearing her tight black leather pants, singlet and leather jacket with boots. But many of the women here? Had on barely there skirts, less than there bikini tops, and totally over the top high heels. 

“Interesting atmosphere.” He deadpanned, causing Faith to snicker again. 

“You alone?” Faith asked, and Han shook his head. 

“Nah. Twinkie is around here somewhere.”

“How’s the rest of your crew?”

“Good. Mostly in LA.”

Faith nodded, but didn’t expound and Bruce had to wonder just who the rest of this Han’s crew...was...that his wife was talking about.

“Han, my man!” A loud-mouthed bald black man with an American accent drawled out arrogantly, causing Han to roll his eyes. 

“Roman.”

Whiter than white teeth smiled and turned to Faith and Bruce—and the man’s expression fell into surprise. 

“Dude! You didn’t tell me you hung with _royalty_!”

“Shut up, Roman! You’re making an ass of yourself.”

“ _Yeah, he is.”_ Another voice drawled, and Faith turned to see someone she hadn’t seen in three years. 

Blue eyes widened in appreciation as the newcomer considered her. 

“Faith.”

“Brian.”

“You look _good_.”

“Thanks. How’s the job?”

“Same.”

She nodded, and then turned to Roman and Han...chuckling in sudden understanding. 

“Why do I feel like this isn’t _exactly_ a coincidence?”

Brian smirked, his blue eyes shifted from Faith to her new husband, and he immediately held out his hand in greeting. 

“Brian O’Conner.”

“Bruce Wayne.”

“Yeah, figured that one out for myself, thanks.”

“What do you do, Mr. O’Conner?”

Faith gripped Bruce’s arm and silently clarified, _**he’s a federal agent for the FBI**_ , at the same time Brian said simply, “I work in acquisitions.”

Bruce considered the man across from him. Tall, California good looks, surfer, probably knew how to handle a street race car, working undercover...

“Do you race?” 

Bruce changed the subject, and Brian nodded. 

“I do. Not as well as this one here...” he lifted his chin at Faith, “But I get by.”

“Modesty doesn’t look good on you, Brian.”

“O’Conner thinks he’s untouchable.” Roman griped out with a toothy grin. 

“Did you live in Cleveland?” Bruce asked Brian, but he shook his head. 

“Los Angeles. It’s where I met Faith, three years ago. Street race. Still the best race I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she raced against probably the best street racer in the world. It was literally a tie. They came across the finish line at _exactly_ the same time. Never seen anything like it.”

“And who was this person?” Bruce glanced down at his wife, and she shrugged. 

“He goes by Dom.”

“Dominic Toretto.” Brian offered with a shit-eating grin. “And you’d bailed before we could set up a rematch. He was pissed about it.”

“What?” Faith snarked. “We’re both undefeated. I’d think he’d like to keep it that way for a little while longer.”

All three of the men laughed, while Bruce just shook his head in amusement. 

“So, what the play tonight?” Faith asked seriously and watched as Roman, Brian and Han all shared an inscrutable look with each other. 

“Well,” Brian cleared his throat softly, “see the green 72 Ford Grand Torino Sport?”

“Yep.”

“The driver works for someone, I’ve been after for a while. He’s my way in, but the only way to convince him of my eligibility is to win this race. Normally I’d do it, but it doesn’t work that way down here. I need to look like I have my own crew.”

“Hence, the wonder twins?”

“Something like that.”

“And where do I fit into this?”

“Well, you _didn’t_ until Han called me and told me he’d seen you earlier this week. No one would ever suspect you as being anything other that what you are?”

“Which is?”

“A dilettante looking for a joy ride?”

“Fuck you, O’Conner.”

Brian laughed. 

“No seriously, you’d be my in to the race. There’s no way they’d ever say _no_ to you. When you win, I’ll have my invite to where I need to be.”

“And what do I get out of it?”

“What do you want, Faith?”

She grinned, but said simply, “Let’s see my potential ride, and I’ll let you know whether I’m in or out.”

“Fair enough.”

Brian led her over to where Twinkie was standing, guarding a rather sleek set of wheels. 

“Nice!” Faith grinned at the 1971 Jensen Interceptor retro mod. “440 Low Deck Big Block V-8?”

“Yes.” Brian grinned, while Bruce sat back and considered his gorgeous wife, who was eyeing the car like a prized stallion. 

“What kind of suspension?”

“KW Clubsport coilovers, to give you double adjusted dampening.”

“8K set up in the front and 6K in the rear?” Faith asked and Han walked over to Bruce Wayne, who was now standing back and shaking his head in wonder. 

“She’s _good_.” Han whispered to Wayne. “She knows her stuff and she has absolutely no fear when she races.”

“She has no fear _at all_.” Bruce replied proudly. 

“Yes.” Brian chuckled. 

“Did you lower the car?”

“1.8 inches. It’s optimal for the set up on this car.”

“Sway bar stiffness?”

“At forty.”

“Brushings?”

“Energy suspension.”

“Alignment?”

“Slightly adjustable, but MacPherson struts.”

Faith nodded as she looked everything over and had Twinkie pop open the hood of the car. 

“Front wheel camber?”

“3.6 degrees negative.”

“Can you change it?”

“Why?” Han asked. 

“Under load. The car will flex if the negative ratio chamber isn’t just right. At the weight of the Jensen even with the retro mod, it needs to be closer to three for better handling in the turns.”

“Done.” Han nodded. 

“Adjust the front toe out too, Han...no more than an eighth of an inch. That should readjust the load nicely.”

“The caster is just below seven degrees and the rest of the items are at spec.” Brian finished.

“And the course?”

“Han can show you. He’s raced it and we’ve taped it. Will that be enough?”

“Let me see it, and I’ll let you know. You may need to readjust a few things dependent on the course itself, but the car looks solid, Brian.”

The blonde bowed his head at the compliment. 

It was an hour later, and Faith had watched the feed several times, memorizing the layout of the track, while Han was working on the adjustments she’d insisted upon. At quarter to midnight, Brian walked into the the makeshift area where Han was finishing up a few things. 

“We’re in.” He said with a grin. “You’ll be racing three other drivers, Faith. Including the target. You ready for this?”

“Please. When I _win_?”

“Yeah?”

“This car is _mine_.”

“Deal.” Brian nodded, and he then winked at Bruce before he left. 

At that point, Bruce eyed the other two men, who took note of the not so subtle request and skedaddled.

“Did you have to run them off?” Faith quipped, and huffed when Bruce pulled her into his embrace and kissed her roughly. 

When he’d made his point, he pulled back and leant his forehead against his wife’s, while her left hand moved up to cup his right cheek tenderly. 

“Be careful.”

“Bruce, careful isn’t a concept in racing.”

“Okay then, be smart.”

“That I can do.”

“And come back to me.”

“That I’ll always do, Krasivyy.” She handed over Han’s phone. “Han has the course on the open feed so you’ll be able to watch parts of the race from here.” She gave him a swift kiss and handed him her jacket, as she said saucily, “Enjoy the show.”

“Kick their asses, Gorgeous.”

She cocked her head and laughed joyously, before getting in the car and moving it slowly out of the private garaged area. When she emerged, there were tons of people waving at her, but thankfully pictures and videos were never really allowed at this sort of event so other than Han’s feed and the main one which would show the cars, but not the drivers—she didn’t have to worry about anyone finding out about this, other than rumor and scuttlebutt. 

Looking back in her review mirror, she could see Bruce falling in step with their security, and Miguel was saying something that had Bruce shaking his head. 

As she pulled up to the starting point, she was the last slot in at the right flank. Which was fine. No one got the jump off the start, better than her. She grinned at the narrow gate opening about two football fields away. Only wide enough for a single car, which meant she’d be the first through. Another 200 yards upfield, there was a hard left hand bank at about a seventy degree turn and then the race would begin in earnest. It was a killer track that was comprised of all kinds of tests. Close quarter driving inside several abandoned buildings were perfect for tight drifting and at one point, there was a narrow track that went through a concrete foundation that had sharp blind turns in succession. A race track entrance to that then led to several straightaway’s and then a final sweeping arch that sent the racers back the way they’d come to the start line. 

Based on the track and speed allocations, the entire race wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes at the most. Brian had configured the NOS for the final straightaway and back through the single gate. 

She grinned inwardly. 

This was gonna be _fun_...

When she pulled up, she got out and nodded to the other drivers, who were eyeing her with surprise, disbelief and in the case of Brian’s target, disgust. 

It was clear he felt insulted by her admission to the race...

He’d get over that soon enough when she beat his ass. 

She hummed as she saw him look towards the gate, and then back at her—a mocking eyebrow lifting in her direction. 

If he thought he was going to take her out, he would be in for a rude awakening. 

She could drive dirty if needed. 

Once the formalities were done, Faith glanced back at her husband, his expression the one he reserved for taking out criminals and thugs—but she just winked, and got into her car. 

Starting it up, she had to admit, the car sounded fucking slick. 

Then the starter came to the forefront. 

As soon as the flag left her hand, Faith floored it and as expected—she was the first one through the gate and banking into the first turn with ease. 

Back at the start line, Bruce stood there with a huge shocked grin on his face as his wife just blew off the line like a fucking pro and literally slid around that first corner like it was nothing. He glanced down at Han’s feed and felt Han, Brian and Roman all watching over his shoulder as Faith made her way to the first set of obstacles. 

The abandoned warehouses were a plethora of tight twists and turns, weaving past cement columns and banking around hairpin turns. 

When she entered the last warehouse, the screen in front of everyone showed the racers in a single file, drifting around the inside of the building and down to the bottom level where they’d exit to the next stage. Faith was still in the lead and as her car came into view on the final straightaway, Bruce heard Han mutter lowly, “ _Watch this_.”

He glanced up at the main feed and his eyes widened at the narrow loop—that didn’t seem possible to swerve through? 

The split second she reached the apex, Faith downshifted and swung the Jensen in a perfect one-hundred and eighty degree drifting turn...missing the cement columns designed to make sure if your timing wasn’t perfect...you’d crash spectacularly. When she’d made it through, the crowd roared, and his grin got impossibly smugger. 

The last car didn’t make it at all, and crashed into the final cement column...taking the driver out of the race. 

“How do they get the car out of there?” Bruce whispered in worry. 

“There are retrieval teams throughout the track. They can remove a car in less than a minute in most cases.”

Bruce nodded as he now noticed the three remaining cars were now entering an actual race track that had an hard embankment to the left at the far end. 

When Faith got there, she pulled the hand brake and her car drifted around the far corner like lightening, slamming down the brake then accelerator— made the hard right turn into the catacombs. 

This was the hardest part of the race. The corners were tight and blind. There were three of them, spaced about a three hundred yards apart and the camera fizzled out at this point. 

“No way to get a signal. It’ll be about a minute until it comes back on, as she emerges from the other side.”

Bruce nodded again, glancing around the area, and noticed many people watching him, but most eyes were fixated on the big Jumbotron screen in front of him. 

Sure enough, at 54 seconds, Faith emerged, and Brian whistled in appreciation. 

“She cut almost a second off your time, Han.”

“Fuck off, Brian.”

The blonde just grinned. 

The last part before the turn to bring them back, saw Brian’s target try and pull alongside Faith, but she swerved and cut him off before banking to the left and drifting around the final corner and back home. 

Once she hit the catacombs again, she was still in the lead, but the trailing car never came out of the narrow passages as they re-emerged, so he was out. 

Back on the race track, Faith and her foe were neck and neck at one point, but she pulled ahead through the gate and into the warehouses. 

It was tight racing from then on, and Bruce felt his heart literally pounding out of his chest as he saw Faith make the final turn back towards him. 

The other driver pulled alongside her and the second the other driver hit his NOS, all three of the men standing there with him said simultaneously...

... _too soon_...

It was another two seconds before Faith hit her switch, and she catapulted past the other driver—but right when the tail of her car was just about to pass him? 

He made to swerve into her...

But somehow she’d been expecting it, because exactly at the same time, she moved into his space and the force of her momentum, caused the front end of his car to spin out of control as she pushed through the last gate and spun her car around, dirt flying and coming to a compete stop to the rabid cheers of everyone. 

Bruce’s smile couldn’t have been any wider if he’d tried and he was _so going to fuck her raw later._

When she got out of the car, he rushed over—with Brian, Han and Roman all following—and kissed the smug smirk right off her face. 

The crowd around them was going nuts, but he only had eyes for her. 

“Is there anything you can’t do?” He whispered with profound awe.

“Not really.” 

Faith noticed Brian stiffening, as the crowd suddenly went deathly quiet. When she turned in Bruce’s embrace, the other driver was heading their way and he looked none too happy. Her security team made to intercept him, but she put her hand up and shook her head in the negative, and felt Bruce’s arms move right around her waist, covering her belly protectively. 

When the other driver reached her, he eyed her speculatively, and then noticed the fierce man behind her, glaring at him with a clear warning look in hardened hazel eyes. 

“What’s your name?” Faith asked evenly. 

“Fenix.”

“Well, Fenix? Nice race.” 

Faith held out her hand for the man to take, and everyone just watched with bated breath to see what he’d do. The man’s dark eyes looked at it for a split second before he chuckled and took it, shaking it firmly and Faith could feel the tension bleed from Bruce’s body instantly. 

“I must say, you’re a fearless racer.”

“Thanks. I like to go fast.”

Laughter echoed throughout the area, and Bruce kissed his wife’s neck at that very accurate statement. 

“Well, you’ll have to forgive myself and my hubby, Fenix? But we’re on our honeymoon, and I’d really like to get back to it now.”

Fenix smirked before his dark eyes settled once again on Bruce. 

“You’re a very fortunate man.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Fenix nodded, pleased—before he turned to Brian. 

“We have business to discuss.”

Brian replied in kind, causing Faith to turn to him and bite out in faux disgust, “Did you _use_ me to win this race?”

“Maybe?” 

Brian winked, and Faith scoffed but then shook her head playfully. 

“That car is mine, Brian. Make sure it’s fixed and sent to me, or I’ll come and find you.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of going back on our bet.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Han, Roman...play nicely with others.”

“Not my style.” Roman chortled, while Han just sighed and lifted his head up to the sky, and Faith figured he was praying for patience. Once his dark eyes settled back on hers, he winked. 

“Keep her out of trouble, Bruce.”

“Easier said than done, Han. Send me the video?”

“I can do that now, if you like?”

Bruce nodded, and gave him his contact info, so Han sent it to him right then and there. He then took his wife and led her back to their SUV, as many people came over and wanted to shake her hand and give them, their best wishes. Faith was friendly and engaging and Bruce was impressed with how easily she related to everyone she met.

Once they were on their way back to the hotel, Bruce threw his head back and laughed uproariously, causing Faith to stare at him in utter shock. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Bruce this unhinged in humor. 

“You okay, Krasivyy?”

“Yes.” He nodded, noticing the other men in the SUV chuckling too. “ _What am I going to do with you, Gorgeous?”_

“What?”

Shaking his head, he just considered his wife whom he loved more than life itself. Every day he learned something new and amazing about her that made him love her even more. He didn’t think it was possible to find someone so utterly fearless and sexy, yet here she was and she was _all his._

Faith could feel Bruce’s pride, adoration and love and it made her heart literally swell to bursting. 

_How turned on are you?_ She asked silently, and watched Bruce’s smile turn predatory. 

“Unbelievably, Gorgeous. You have _no idea,_ but you will.”

“Lucky me.” She bit her lip purposefully, eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed and fuck...Bruce thought...

... _she was perfect..._

“No,” he whispered achingly, cupping her cheeks in his hands, “ _Lucky me.”_

Back in their hotel room, Faith let her husband take control of the entire night for the first time in their relationship and she wasn’t disappointed. He’d brought out a blindfold and a pair of handcuffs and had quirked a challenging eyebrow at her. She’d placed her hands up at the headboard and watched with a hooded gaze as Bruce carefully locked her wrists into place and then settled the blindfold over her eyes. 

Having her sight taken away was an experience she’d never allowed before...because it made her rely so much on her other senses but moreso...on her emotions. As she reached out to Bruce, trying to will him to feel what she was feeling—as he touched, tasted and fucked her. 

Right before she’d come the second time, as her back arched, her mind let go completely and she heard Bruce’s voice inside of her head, whispering her name in wonder. 

_Yes...Krasivyy..._

**Fuck, Gorgeous. This is amazing!**

For the rest of the night she’d let it all go, and it was then she’d belatedly realized that it had taken her giving her husband her compete trust, to break through that last mental barrier she’d held so close for so long. There was no hiding from him anymore, and she simply didn’t want to. She loved him so much it physically hurt her when she wasn’t touching him in some way...

**I know, my love...I feel it too...**

He’d spoken like a calm ocean breeze into her mind, and she’d cried out his name as she’d come in a rush of heat and desire. 

When the handcuffs were removed and the blindfold lifted, bright hazel eyes were staring down at her with utter love and devotion. 

“Hey, _Wife_.”

“Hi, _Husband_.”

“That was...”

Faith shook her head and giggled. “Fuck, if I have the words for what that was.”

Bruce hummed in agreement, because there were simply no words that would ever do this night justice. 

“You okay?” He queried hesitantly, and her bright smile filled with warmth, letting him know there were no regrets. 

“Perfect!” She kissed him deeply. “ _So perfect.”_

“You _are_.”

“You might be biased.”

“I am, sue me.”

“Nah, I’m going to keep you. _You’re welcome_.” She grinned impishly, causing Bruce’s body to shake with mirth. 

“I’m definitely thanking you, Gorgeous. I should’ve thanked you every single moment from the first time I saw you.” 

“That’s okay. You can make it up to me?”

“ _Gladly_.” 


	72. Lucky Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart and Robert are attacked by vampires.

It had taken Rona approximately three days of doing recon, before she was able to break into Jack Bass apartment. Willow had given her a program to upload on the man’s computer, that would put a spyware program which would track all his digital movements. She’d also found a dossier on Chuck, and as Rona had suspected—they were planning on targeting him to gain access to Bass Incorporated. 

The info she’d gotten on Diana Payne, she’d given to Bart and from there, he’d promised to deal with that end himself. 

Rona had no idea what that had meant at all...

Her Father had called, and left a message the previous night. It wasn’t much, just asking how she was and that he missed her. 

She was still having a hard time reconciling it all, but she’d promised Bart she’d try and for him she would. He was giving her everything she’d ever wanted from him and while he hadn’t told her he loved her...Rona had to believe that his willingness at some point in the future, have a child with her, spoke volumes about how he felt. 

It was later that same evening she and Violet had decided to go out patrolling. Bart had texted her and said he’d be busy, so she’d figured it was a good idea to go out and Slay.

It was just past midnight as she and Violet decided to call it a night due to no activity. They had gone as far as the upper west side just south of Harlem. They were traversing through Central Park and out on Central Park South, when Rona checked her phone... 

...it was almost 1am. 

“You hungry?” Violet asked and Rona nodded. They were about six blocks from Bart’s hotel but he hadn’t texted her at all tonight, so she’d figured he was probably already asleep. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“I could go for some pancakes?”

“I know just the place.” Rona nodded as they headed southwest and down to 46th and 9th where the Galaxy Diner was located. 

When they got there it was busy, but Rona knew the owner who came over and gave them a seat in the back. 

“You really know the city well.” Violet stated, as she placed her order. 

“I do. I have my favorite haunts for sure, but this was one place my Mom would take me when I was a kid and we’d visit the city. She was always so low key, even with the expectations of society. She liked people and never seemed to be too bothered with the superfluous crap that came with money.”

“Kinda like you?”

“Yep.”

Soon their food came, and it was about forty minutes later they’d paid and were walking out of the restaurant when Rona’s gaze narrowed. 

“What is it?”

“ _I don’t know, exactly_. Come on.”

Violet followed Rona as she headed west on 46th. It was another three blocks that Rona stopped dead in her tracks for there coming out of the Manhattan Men’s Club, was Bart and her Dad. 

“Fuck!” Rona hissed. 

They were smiling and talking, and Rona’s expression shifted at how happy both men looked. It was clear that there was a genuine friendship there, and her heart ached as she watched them walk east, and out of sight. 

“Do we follow?” Violet asked, and Rona was going to say _no_ , but something told her this wasn’t some random chance event as much as she wanted to think that. So she nodded, and they followed for about six blocks until both Slayers radars pinged big time. 

“Shit!” Rona hissed as she watched her Father and Bart head south in exactly the direction she didn’t want them to go. Both girls took off into a sprint down an alleyway and came through near a parking structure when they heard a scuffle. 

Coming around the corner, there were four vampires, and one had her Dad on the ground, while Bart was bleeding from a cut lip, and pushed up against a cement column. She threw her stake across the fifty foot distance, and it impaled the vamp just as he was just about to bite her boyfriend. 

The explosion of ash shocked Bart for a second, before the angry amber eyes of Rona stared him down. 

Violet went after the second vampire, who had Rona’s Dad pinned, and launched herself at it, knocking it away as they rolled. Vi, easily sprung back to her feet while a third vamp attacked Rona. 

She backhanded it and high kicked it into its chest, launching it about fifteen feet into a car. The car alarm sounded, while the fourth vampire came after her. 

Bart reached down and grabbed Rona’s stake, watching as she punched, jabbed and roundhouse kicked the fourth vampire into the wall. 

He whistled and threw her weapon, which she caught mid air, turned and impaled vampire four to ash, just as Violet dusted the second vamp. 

Vampire number three, realizing he was outnumbered turned and launched himself upwards twenty feet to the next level, but Rona ran and vaulted herself up effortlessly, to the stunned expressions of both Robert and Bart. 

Violet at that moment came over and said seriously, “Time to leave.”

“But...” both men blurted out simultaneously, but Violet grabbed their arms and dragged them away. 

“Nope! She’ll be _fine_. You won’t be. Time to _go_.”  
  
As they left the garage, security came over and instantly recognized Bart. 

“Mr. Bass? Are you alright?”

“Yes. Muggers. This woman saved us.”

The guard nodded and was going to call it in, but Bart shook his head. 

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Violet walked them towards Bart’s hotel near Bryant Park. 

They were almost there, when they heard footsteps running towards them, and Bart turned to see Rona racing down the street, her dark curls flying around her face as she launched herself into his waiting arms. 

He gripped onto her for dear life, holding her close and taking in her delicious scent. He could see Robert’s resigned expression over Rona’s shoulder, but there was an accepting half smile too. 

When he released Rona, she took a step back and smacked him hard on his chest with a snarl. 

“ _What the fuck were you thinking, you asshole!_? Walking around half drunk in midtown after midnight! What if I hadn’t been there!”

“Rona...”

But she put her finger up in fury, and Bart had to admit—he was rather turned on right now. 

When Rona turned around, she noticed her Father watching her closely and she swallowed heavily. As angry as she was at her Dad, she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. 

Bart side-eyed Violet, who shrugged helplessly. This was the one thing she couldn’t help her best friend with. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Rona finally said, and Robert nodded. 

“I’m happy you’re okay, too...Princess.” Robert lowered and shook his head—and when his gaze lifted, there were bright tears in his eyes, which caused Rona to gasp in a shocked breath. 

Her Father _never_ cried. 

She’d never seen him cry, even when her Mom had died. Realistically, she’d known he must’ve at some point—but he’d never allowed her to see it, nor grieved with her either. 

“I’m _so sorry,_ Princess.”

Rona’s lower lip quivered and then she ran into her Dad’s outstretched arms, allowing him to pull her to him as he held onto her tightly, whispering apologies over and over again into her hair. 

Bart smiled in relief. This was what he’d hoped for and had to wonder just how Rona had known where’d they’d be. When Violet came over to stand next to him, she said lowly, “I don’t know how she knew, but Rona _did_. We saw you both coming out of the men’s club and we were going to head back to Hells Kitchen, but the Powers must’ve...”

Bart nodded again in understanding, as he didn’t need Violet to elaborate. He just watched as Robert set Rona down and wiped the tears from her cheeks lovingly, then kissed her forehead in relief. 

“You’re quite formidable, Princess.” Robert offered with a proud smirk. 

“I get it from my Dad.” She shrugged, causing both Bart and Robert to chuckle deeply. Rona then glanced back at Bart and sighed. “You two need to go and sleep it off. We’re going to head back home.”

“You can stay?” 

“It’s fine, Rich Man. You need to sleep, as do I.” She then turned to her Dad and said simply, “Brunch?”

“I’d love that.”

“Cool. I’ll be back tomorrow at eleven.”

“Sounds good.”

Bart and Robert watched Rona and Violet disappear back into the night. 

“I’m happy for you, old friend.” Bart patted Robert on the shoulder, and the other man smiled softly, before he gaze turned contemplative.

“She really loves you.”

“She does.”

“And you?”

Bart sighed and nodded. “I haven’t told her yet, but tonight cinched it for me. She saw us outside of the club, and _knew_ to follow us. The Powers have given your daughter a truly wondrous gift, old friend. We’d be dead right now, if it wasn’t for that gift. My guess? They needed you to understand just whom your daughter is, and what she fights for. Because speaking from experience, until you see it? Dealing in abstracts, it’s so hard to fully comprehend just what she faces when she goes out each night.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

Bart chuckled as he quipped out a, “ _Fuck, no_...but I don’t get a vote, Robert. _Not about this._ When it comes to everything else, yes. She wants a child at some point, and I’ll give it to her because it’ll make her happy. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her by my side. If that means kissing her goodbye as she goes out to fight the monsters of the world, then I’ll do it. I may not like it, but I know she’ll always come back to me.”

Giving his old friend an incredulous look, Robert had to admit that this was a side of Bart he’d never seen before. 

Waving his hand inside, both men wandered into the hotel lobby, and made their way upstairs. When they got to Bart’s suite, he invited Robert inside, instinctively knowing the man needed to talk a bit more.

“Scotch?” Bart lifted up the decanter and Robert nodded. 

“I think after what just happened? I might end up drinking the entire bottle.”

“Not my scotch, you won’t.” Bart smirked as he handed Robert a tumbler and poured one for himself. “Are you going to be okay, really?” Bart asked as he sat down adjacent to Robert, who was staring at the amber liquid with a small frown on his face. 

“No. How do an you ever be okay with learning that monsters are real, and your only child has been called to fight them?”

“You can’t.” Bart shrugged. 

“If I hadn’t seen it for myself...”

“I know. Like I said before, it’s a strange reality to wrap the logical side of your brain around. I’ve seen monsters, and magic and things that go bump in the night...but none of that compared to watching Rona in her element tonight. Seeing her fire and fearlessness, makes me wonder what she sees in me.”

“Good point.” Robert quipped as he took a healthy sip of his scotch, and noticed Bart smirking at him. 

“Just get it out, old friend. We both know we need to have this conversation at some point.”

“Fine.” Robert set his tumbler down on the side coaster and slanted forward, giving Bart his undivided attention. 

“You plan to _marry_ my daughter?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I’m thinking I’ll ask on her birthday next year. She’ll be twenty four, and hopefully ready to think about marriage.”

Robert hummed in agreement. 

“Children?”

“Possibly. We both know that I had a vasectomy twelve years ago. I’d never envisioned having another child beyond Chuck—which means even if it’s reversible, there’s little chance I’d get Rona pregnant the old fashioned way.”

“So, IVF?”

“Yes, which may mean twins.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Something tells me, old friend? That it’s not going to be up to me. The Powers will bless us if it’s meant to be, whether that’s one or two children, it matters little.”

“Wow, that’s awfully pragmatic of you, old friend. You _feeling_ alright?”

Bart laughed out loud, earning an amused grin from his friend. 

“You find that _funny_?”

“I do!” Bart snickered and shook his head. “Rona said exactly the same thing to me not too long ago. You both are more alike than either one of you realize.”

“Probably.”

“At least she agreed to have Brunch with you.”

“Will you be joining us?”

“I wasn’t invited, but, no. You two need this time to repair what was damaged and try to find your way back to each other. However, I have to tell you, Robert. Rona is...she has a brilliant business mind.”

“I’d always suspected it,” Robert admitted with a proud grin, “but after what you’d shared with me about her market predictions, I did some independent checking.”

“And?”

“She’s right. The yield index is showing the first signs towards a recession. I talked to my contacts at Lehman Brothers too.”

“And is it as bad as Rona surmised?”

“Worse. He told me that the housing bubble has already started showing signs of imminent collapse. A reduction of nearly 20-60 percent equity in most markets. Some of the larger cities might remain somewhat unaffected, but it’s going to be a great time to snatch up real estate.”

“What are you thinking?”

“By 2010, the foreclosure market will have peaked. I did some forecast models. There’s going to be at least four million foreclosures.”

“Shit!” Bart paled heavily. “Heaviest hit areas?”

“West Coast and parts of the Midwest. Jobs indicators are hurting too, and manufacturing sectors are going to be taking a hard hit.”

“So across the board.”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m meeting with my managers to restructure a good portion of my personal portfolio into offshore markets. China mainly. Cheap goods and services will be sought after, and it will allow me to keep cash afloat to pay my people and not have to lay-off any employees.”

“Did you set up a trust for Rona?”

“You mean besides the one her Mother did?”

“Yes.”

“Of course I did. There’s company stock of course, but there’s real estate in there too and liquid assets. All told, it’s worth about two billion.”

“Does she know?”

“No. I will tell her when the time is right. She’ll probably tell me to shove it, but it’s hers.”

“I just have one request to make?”

“And that would be?”

“As much as I’d like it to be different now that I’ve committed to having a family with Rona, Chuck is my Heir. He will inherit Bass Incorporated. I would only ask that you list any children Rona and I have as your Heirs. I want them provided for, Robert. I have my personal accounts, which are substantial, but not what a child of mine deserves from their Father.”

“I can do that. Do you think Rona will have an issue with any of it?”

“No. I think she’d be perfectly happy with a small home, me and a child. I don’t think she gives a flying fuck about my money, nor hers. It’s a tool. One she knows what to do with. It gives her the freedom to be who she wants and needs to be, but that’s it.”

“You’re probably right.” Robert chuckled, then he sat back and said simply, “Bruce Wayne?”

“What about him?”

“He knows his wife is a Slayer?”

“He does.”

“And he has no issue with it?”

“None at all.”

“Huh, well I’ll be damned!”

“What?” Bart sat back, with a curious expression. 

“I didn’t want to believe it, you know?”

“What? You old codger?”

“Are you going to sit there and tell me, you don’t know?”

Bart considered the variables and it took about a minute for the truth of what Robert was saying to hit him. And when it did, he grinned in admiration. 

“How long have you suspected?”

“A year.”

“Really?”

“You didn’t?”

“Fuck, no!” Bart shook his head emphatically. “Never even crossed my mind. My son, however? Guessed about the same time you did, but I brushed it off. Turns out, Chuck was right.”

“I’m very good friends with Bruce’s banker at Gotham Trust.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I met with him the day after Bruce called him to set up the trust for his unborn child. Edgar was rather beside himself. Chuffed, more like it.”

“How much did Wayne set up?”

“Edgar told me it was the standard 10 percent. So based on Bruce’s net worth of liquid assets, I’d say about a billion.”

“Hmm.” Bart nodded, swirling his scotch. 

“But that wasn’t the interesting part.”

“Oh?”

“Nope, it was the fact that his new wife, had already set up a trust for their Heir.”

“I know.” Bart lifted his tumbler to his lips...

“Oh? So you know that Faith put 20 billion into that trust?”

Bart spewed his scotch across the room, and Robert laughed outrageously. 

Grey eyes turned to his friend in awe. Oh, he knew from what John Daggett had postulated that the Romanov wealth was likely considerable, but he’d believed it to be a load of codswallop. 

Now?

“Are you _sure_?” 

“Oh, yes...I nearly wet myself when I found out. I’d surmised that the Romanov wealth had to be substantial for the Russian government to go after it, but 200 billion? Fuck me!”

“Holy shit!”

“I know. Her interest account alone per annum is probably a billion.”

Bart threw back his head and laughed again. No wonder she’d been as smug as fuck that night at EdenSquare!

“That’s _unreal_.” Bart said at last. 

“Tell me about it. She could buy your company, mine, her husband’s and still have 100 billion to spend.” Robert sat back and grinned. “Bruce is also aware of the upcoming recession. He knew over a month ago and has been making moves to assure that Wayne Enterprises comes out of it stronger. I don’t know exactly what he’s done, but Edgar spoke with Karl Stroessner at Bank Suisse and both Faith and Bruce have set out a game plan. I ran some numbers of best case scenarios.”

“And?”

“Faith Wayne will likely nearly double her net worth within five year’s time.”

Bart ran his hands down his face in shock. 

“And you’re sure about this?”

“Yes. Wayne won’t merge with any other corporations. He’s far too smart for that.”

“Tate Conglomerate.” Bart bit out. 

“What about it?”

“Miranda Tate went after Faith and Bruce, and by extension people they cared about. I helped them take her out. Between John Daggett, myself and Wayne? We absorbed all her assets.”

“Shit.”

“There’s more.”

“What more could there be?”

“Wayne. There was several billion in assets, but all he’d asked for was the Paris assets and the Green Technology. He went after some guy, Pavel?”

“Leonid Pavel?”

“That’s the one. I didn’t recognize the name, but by the look on your face I can tell you do. Who is he?”

“Russian scientist. He was rumored to be developing a nuclear fusion reactor. First of its kind.”

“Fusion? Like cold fusion?”

“I’m not a scientist, Bart. But I know enough to hypothesize that the technology, if viable, would revolutionize energy allocations as we know it. If Wayne has this guy, and the tech proves workable—he’d corner the market on green energy. That alone is worth trillions.”

“Fucking hell, that little sneak!”

“He knows something.”

“His CEO is quite the genius. And from what I gather? Wayne is no slouch in that area either. The tech he employs as Batman means he’s got a keen mind for weapons development. Which is just another aside for energy platforms.”

“So how do we make ourselves useful?”

Bart sat back and pondered that. He was already in Wayne and Faith’s circle, but they played things close to the vest. 

“Give me some time, Robert. I’ve been invited to Russia with the Wayne’s next month. I’ll talk to Bruce. He’s not the issue though. His wife is, and I’ve seen her in action.”

“Scary?”

“As much as I love your daughter, Faith Wayne is in another league. She’s telepathic, empathic, and a force of nature unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“And she’s devoted to Rona, yes?”

“Rona calls her, _mom_.”

Robert swallowed and Bart heard his whispered, _shit_...as his head fell down in pained understanding. 

“And Faith?” Robert whispered. 

“You saw it for yourself in Chicago. Violet and Rona are Faith’s sisters. She wouldn’t hesitate to end either of our existences if we hurt Rona in any way. Back in Chicago, when Faith got there and spoke with Rona, Wayne texted me and told me she was _thisclose_ to hunting you down and taking you out. So yeah?”

“I’m glad Rona has people she can count on.”

“Me too.” Bart hummed thoughtfully. 

At that moment Bart’s phone dinged. He opened it up and saw a text from Wayne of all people. 

“Who is it?”

“Wayne?” Bart swallowed. “Do you think his ears were burning?”

Both men laughed as Bart opened the text. 

**Just thought you’d like to know? There really isn’t anything my gorgeous wife can’t do.**

Underneath was a link...

Then another text came in...

**You might want to download and watch on a large screen to get the full effect. Enjoy!**

Scowling slightly, Bart did just that as he transferred the file to his computer and then brought it up on his flat screen. 

“What’s this about?” Robert asked with interest. “Aren’t they on their honeymoon?”

“Yeah,” Bart scoffed softly, “but obviously this is something he wants to gloat about.”

When the feed came up, Bart eyes widened at the scene. It was obviously in Buenos Aires and there were four cars at some kind of start line. The camera feed was just clear enough that he could make out Faith in the car on the far right. 

“Street Race?” Robert grinned, and Bart nodded in shock. 

But if he’d thought he knew what shock felt like, it was nothing compared to watching the next twelve minutes of the video feed as Faith blew off the line like a fucking racing pro and took the other three drivers to school. At one point she was in a warehouse and literally drifted her car around a narrow one-eighty hairpin that should’ve been impossible, but clearly wasn’t. 

Next, she was on a race track and cut off the driver behind her in a hard left banking turn...

When she turned hard right into some kind of underground road, the feed cut out for about a minute...

But then she re-emerged with the same two cars behind her...

Another minute went by and another set of obstacles before she’d made another drifting left turn and headed back the way she’d come. 

When she’d disappeared again and came out the other side, there was only one car behind her. The green 72 Ford Torino. 

Both he and Robert couldn’t take their eyes off the screen as her car moved back through the warehouse and into the final stages of the race. 

When she make the last hard right turn, back towards the starting-finishing line...the driver in the Torino did something that catapulted him ahead, but then a split second later, Faith’s car did the same...

She had pulled ahead just enough that the back of her car was almost clear of the Torino...

And then it happened. The other driver went to ram the front of his car into the back fender of hers, but she’d anticipated it and moved first, causing him to spin out as she drove through the last gate and blasted through the finish line. 

When the feed ended, both men just sat there staring at the blank screen in complete, total and utter awe. 

“Wayne is a _lucky_ fuck.” Robert mused and Bart nodded. 

“I might’ve told him that many times.” Bart chortled. “Leave it to Faith to know how to street race. There literally isn’t a single thing that woman can’t do.”

Bart picked up his phone and sent off a text...

_Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Wayne? Gloating is so unbecoming..._

**Not if it’s true, Bass. Oh, and my wife wants you to tell Robert Steward hello...from the both of us.**

Shit!

**And I’ll be expecting you both to call my secretary to set up a meeting when I get back.**

Fuck!

“What?”

“Wayne wanted me to tell you _hello_.”

“How did he know?”

“I’m guessing Rona, but with Faith? It’s a toss up.” Bart replied uneasily. “He also wants us to set up a time to meet with him when he gets back.”

Both men eyed each other warily. Wondering just what Bruce Wayne would want with the both of them. 


	73. Past Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith meets with Brian O’Conner one more time before leaving Buenos Aires.

“You just couldn’t resist, could you?” Faith quipped as she poured herself a glass of Orange Juice. This was their last meal before they bid Buenos Aires adieu, and headed off to Bora Bora for ten days. 

“Guilty as charged, Gorgeous.” Bruce winked, before taking a sip of his morning coffee. “Besides, can you blame me? You’re _spectacular_.”

Faith just smirked, but didn’t refute Bruce’s assertion, nor his need to posture and preen like a proud peacock. 

“It was lucky I texted Rona and she gave me a heads up. She’s going to let me know how Brunch goes with her Dad. But if they can patch their shit up? I’m more than happy to work with the man, if it benefits Rona.”

“I still can’t believe that Bart agreed to more children. He must be really in love with Rona, to take that leap.”

“I feel like an idiot for not realizing sooner how she felt. She’s so good at hiding her feelings it’s hard to read her sometimes. But now that I think about it, it all makes sense in a really fucked up way.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Giles gave us all a choice where we wanted to make our home bases after Sunnydale, it wasn’t even a question for myself or B...Hell Mouths in Cleveland and Rome...so that’s where we went. But the other potentials, had the pick of the litter as to where they could go and hang their hats. After Rona confronted her Dad, she ended up in Cleveland with me for a month. We trained and patrolled—but when I asked her where she wanted to go, she didn’t even hesitate. New York. I didn’t know what to think.”

“You make it seem like it’s unusual for Slayers to go there?”

“There are several cities in the world where it’s very hard to patrol, due to high congestion and concentrations of people. Which means, the vamps tend to stay below ground whenever possible. London, New York and Hong Kong are probably the worst, but Manhattan is particularly bad. Chao Ahn stays in Hong Kong because that’s where her family is at. But it’s tough. Kennedy patrols London and Rona stays in New York. Giles wanted her to go to Mexico City, but she refused. Rather adamantly.”

“You think she went to New York because Bart was there?”

“Now I do. Rona has never been in a relationship that I’m aware of. She found a place in Manhattan that caters to the Dungeon scene, and she seemed content.”

“You know?” Bruce began, “John is quite serious about having Buffy stay with him in Gotham. Which mean you’ll both be there?”

“I know. While I’m happy for her and John, I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“I’d figured you might have conflicting emotions.”

“The only good thing is Gotham is in such close proximity to New York, Boston and other major cities that B can branch out if she needs to.”

“Do you think she will?”

“Dunno. I’ve been thinking it might be a good idea with some of the new recruits, to have them come to Gotham and formally train with both of us for a period of time. Kind of like a customized Slayer school of fighting? Watchers routinely have handled it, but they don’t have field time like me and B.”

Bruce sat back and pondered that idea and he had to admit?

It was a really good idea. 

“We could use the Manor?” Bruce offered easily, “I think I can outfit the caverns into whatever you might need.”

“ _Really_?” Faith’s expression was beaming, and Bruce nodded. 

“Of course, Gorgeous. I’m sure with Angel’s help? We can have a state of the art Slayer training facility in no time at all.”

Faith rushed over and plopped down on her husband’s lap, kissing him over and over in gratitude. 

“Thank you.”

Cupping her cheeks, Bruce ran his right hand down through his wife’s hair tenderly. “Don’t you know there’s nothing in this world I would ever deny you, if it’s within my power to give it?”

“I know.”

“It’s my job as your husband to be whatever it is you need me to be. Lover, partner, fighter, friend, confidant, comrade—the roles are endless, Gorgeous. All I need from you is to let me know what it is you need. I can feel you a bit now, not as well as I’m sure you can with me but I’m thinking as time goes by? This connection we share will only grow.”

“I know and I want it to. I don’t want to hide from you, Krasivyy.”

“And that means more to me than anything in the world. Your trust, I hold it sacred. I’m not unaware of what a huge gift you’ve given me.”

Tears welled in Faith’s eyes as she smiled tremulously at her handsome husband. 

“I feel the same way.” She whispered softly. “You’re safe with me, Bruce. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

He swallowed heavily and nodded, words unable to form due to the rising emotion clogging his throat. Faith kissed him tenderly and was about to deepen it, when a knock sounded at their door. 

Pulling back with a confused frown, Faith went to stand up to go answer it, but Bruce shook his head and did the honors. When he opened the door, Miguel was standing there with a guest. 

“Sorry, Mr. Wayne.”

“It’s fine, Miguel. We’ll be checking out in an hour.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Bruce nodded and waved their guest inside, and Faith’s eyes brightened when Bruce came back into their room with Brian O’Conner.

“Hey, Brian.”

“Faith.” 

Gesturing to the blonde to take a seat, he did so with a word of thanks. 

“Coffee?”

“Please.” 

Faith poured Brian a cup, and handed it to him—watching him take a sip and sigh. 

“Good coffee down here.”

“It is, but I can’t drink it.” Faith snarked, causing Bruce to chuckle. 

“Why?”

“We’re expecting.”

Brian’s eyes widened in shock, and then he shook his head in exasperation.

“You raced, _pregnant_? Shit, Faith! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Cause you would’ve gone all caveman and made some stupid, sexist comment that would’ve just pissed me off.”

“Huh? Fair enough.”

Putting down his cup, Brian sat back and pulled out an envelope from his jacket pocket. 

“The keys and registration for your car. It’s being shipped on Friday and will arrive in Gotham in a weeks time, so you’ll need to make arrangements on your end to have someone pick it up from customs.”

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem. I’d just wanted to thank you for what you did.”

“Did it work?”

“It did. I have a meeting with the head of the Mexican Drug Cartel next week.”

“Shit, Brian. Isn’t that a bit out of your jurisdiction?”

“No. I’m working with a joint DEA task force, and this guy I’m going after? Well, it’s personal.”

“How?”

“He killed Letty.”

“What?” Faith hissed in shock. “When?”

“Six months ago. She and Dom got into some trouble in the DR, and Dom disappeared trying to protect her and take the heat himself. We think he’s in Panama, but no one knows for sure. Letty came back to LA after Dom went off grid, and she agreed to work for me as an undercover racer in exchange for clearing Dom from the bogus charges, but the head of the Cartel must’ve figured it out and had her killed. Her funeral was a month ago. Dom showed and went after my informant, beat the guy black and blue and then disappeared again.”

“Shit.” Faith gave Brian a considering look. “You’re thinking Dom is going to go after this guy on his own, aren’t you?”

“That’d be my guess. Han seems to think so too.”

“Who’s the target?”

“His name is Braga.”

Faith sighed, running her hands down her face in agitation. 

“And this Fenix, works for him?”

“Yep.” Brian nodded. “Main enforcer, driver and all around asshole. I’m thinking he’s the one who killed Letty.”

“And you had me race that prick! Fuck, Brian!”

“Sorry, Faith. I know you were in LA only for a short time, but you seemed to fit in with the crowd fairly well. Letty liked you, and she didn’t like anyone outside the family. Look, I didn’t tell you this to upset you. Whatever happens from here on out, you’ve done your part and I’m grateful.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” She held out her hand and asked for his phone, which Brian gave her. She put her number into Brian’s contacts and tossed his phone back to him. When he glanced down at the name, he chuckled. 

“Hope?”

“Trust me, it works. If you need me, use the number.”

“I will.” He stood up and held out his hand for Bruce, who shook it firmly. “Take care of her, Bruce.”

“Always. Be careful, Mr. O’Conner.”

“Always am.” 

Faith watched Brian leave with a heavy feeling settling in her gut. 

“That’s not going to turn out well.” Faith hissed unhappily. 

“What do you mean?”

Dark eyes turned to him, and Bruce could see anger there, but also concern and fear. 

“Dom and Letty were sweethearts from way back. They had a garage in LA together and raced together. Did everything together. He loved her unconditionally, and if it’s true that this Braga guy had her killed? Dom won’t stop until he kills the guy.”

“Gorgeous, he’d have to get close to him and look at what Brian had to go through just to get a meet up.”

“You don’t know Dominic Toretto, Bruce. He’s as committed as Batman, but without the resources. Everyone in the LA race scene deferred to him. They are like family there. All the strays, would be invited to Dom’s house on Sunday for barbecue. No one was ever turned away. If you were in, you were family.”

“Sounds like a stand up guy.”

“He is. He offered me a spot in his crew, which I turned down for obvious reasons. But the fact that he’d _offered_? Meant that those in the LA racing scene accepted me as one of them.”

“Hence why Han asked you to race?”

“Yep. I was only there for a little over a month, but it was long enough. After the fight with the Senior Partners, I hung out for a while. Made sure Angel got things settled before I left. But during the days, I’d hang out down at Dom’s and his little sister, Mia’s shop. Dom was putting her through nursing school.”

“Alright, Gorgeous...let’s just assume for a moment that Dom finds his way to Braga? What then?”

“Dunno. But nothing good, I’m sure of it.”

“Do you want to get involved?”

Faith shook her head. “This isn’t my fight, Bruce. As much as I liked hanging out with them? They’re not my responsibility, nor my family. You and Damian are my family. Rona and Violet are my family. Zarina and Natalia are my family. Angel is family. The junior brigade is family along with B, Willow and Dawnie. I just hope it ends up working out.”

“I hope so too.”

It didn’t take them long to pack up and get to the airport. Miguel and Eduardo were flying with them and the rest of the crew had left yesterday and was already on site, getting the Yacht ready for departure. 

“Have you ever been to the South Pacific?”

“No, Gorgeous. This will be a first for me as well.”

“How long is the flight?”

“About thirteen hours. We will be stopping in Papeete to go through customs and then on to Bora Bora.”

“So will we be staying close there?”

“Yes. The French Polynesian islands are all about a twelve hour boat ride in proximity, but due to your pregnancy and the fact that you’ve had morning sickness, I’m not inclined to wander far. The Four Seasons have a resort there, and I’ve us booked for several suites for the ten days, just in case.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

“I try.” Bruce winked. “On our way home, we will be stopping in San Francisco for a couple days. If that’s alright.”

“Balthazar?”

“And Zephyr. She sent a really nice note wishing us the best and apologizing for her little brother who apparently, had his allowance stripped for the school year and has to get a job.”

Faith snickered, nodding her head in approval. 

“I’d thought Balthazar invited us to a Baseball game?”

“The local team didn’t make it to the playoffs this year. I didn’t think you’d be too broken up about not going to a game?”

“I’m not a big fan of sports, but I do know a bit about baseball. It’s kinda hard not to know about the San Francisco Giants, with their star left fielder...Bonds? Home Run record, right?”

“Yep. But how?”

Faith shrugged. “During my sabbatical the only things on the tube were baseball and movie night. I usually spent my time in the yard working out and the other ladies left me alone, except for one...who tried to kill me. Didn’t work it so well for her.”

“What happened?”

“Broke her nose then broke out a couple days later. The Bringers sent her after me, tried to take me out before the big bad happened in Sunnydale. Didn’t work so well for them either.”

Bruce nodded in understanding. “I was in prison in Bhutan for about six months before Ra’s came for me. The prisoners tried many times to have me killed. Didn’t work out so well for them either.”

Faith smirked knowingly, and their conversation took a hiatus until they were through the airport and once in the air—Bruce took her to the back of the plane, and while they were laying down, their talk continued...

“What were you in prison for?”

Cracking a grin, Bruce said simply, “Stealing.”

“Oh?” Faith lifted her head and glanced down at her husband curiously. “And who’s stuff were you stealing?”

“Mine?”

“Huh?”

“I got caught stealing electronics, that were marked for Wayne Enterprises.”

Faith flinched back in shock and then she flopped back and completely lost her shit. 

Bruce rolled over and grinned down at her, his expression amused too. 

“You think that’s _funny_ , Gorgeous?”

“Fucking hysterical, Krasivyy. Why didn’t you just tell them who you were?”

“Kinda defeated the whole purpose about learning how the criminal fraternity worked. If I hadn’t gone to jail, I’d have never met Ra’s, and never become Batman. I’d have never met you. Worked out in the end, right?”

“ _And who said crime doesn’t pay!”_

Bruce gripped her to him, as they both lost themselves in their own private joke. 

After a few moments, Bruce pulled her back into him and cuddled Faith into his side, kissing her temple lovingly. 

“I don’t regret a single moment of my past, Gorgeous. It led me to you.”

“Ditto.”

“Now sleep. We’ll be there soon enough and you didn’t get much rest last night, if memory serves.”

“Neither did you.”

“Hence why we are going to take a nice, long nap.”

“Fine.”

They were both out within minutes...


	74. A Woman Scorned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rona learns an unexpected truth about Bart’s past from her Father.

Brunch with her Father had been awkward at first. They’d talked about business mostly, at least for the first thirty minutes. It had taken her Dad about another twenty minutes, to get up the courage to speak about her relationship with Bart. 

“Are you _happy_ , Princess?”

“With what?”

“Rona?”

She sighed, but nodded. “I am. I’m not going to apologize for going after what I want, either. So if you’re looking for that...”

“I’m _not_...” Robert was quick to reassure, “I just want to make sure that you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“With Bart?”

“Yes.”

This time, Rona smirked...

...then giggled softly.

“Dad, if there’s one thing I do know, it’s how complicated and stubborn Bart Bass is. He’s not called the _Prince of Darkness_ for no reason.”

Robert chuckled and nodded in agreement. 

“But, I do remember how he was with you after Mom died. He came to visit you often, and I’d always kinda figured it was because he’d understood where you were coming from?”

“Because he’d lost his first wife?”

Ron bit her lip, but nodded in reply. 

“What do you know about Bart’s relationship with Evelyn?”

“Not much. We haven’t discussed it. I’d always suspected it was arranged.”

“It was.”

“Did he love her?”

Robert pursed his lips as he considered the question. Had Bart loved Evelyn? Oh, he knew Bart had cared about her, but Evelyn wasn’t his choice...

No, that had been someone else...

“Bart married Evelyn out of obligation to what his Father wanted. He was actually dating someone pretty serious in college at Stanford, and was crazy about her.”

“Oh?” Rona piped in curiously, “Did she have a name?”

“Diana Payne.”

Rona paused in surprise at the name, and it took all her effort to school her features into an indifferent expression. 

Why hadn’t Bart told her, and was this why he’d wanted to take care of things himself?

“I remember her name?” Rona queried at last. “Didn’t you do business with her once?”

“Years ago.” Robert poured himself more coffee and gestured to his daughter...but the firm shake of her head, let him know she was good. “It wasn’t anything too involved.”

“I see.” Rona sighed. “If Bart’s dad hadn’t insisted he marry Evelyn, do you think he’d have married Diana Payne?”

“Yes. He’d bought an engagement ring from what he’d shared some years later, and had planned on proposing the day they’d graduated from Stanford. Unfortunately, his Father had come to California a few days prior and told him the happy news. Bart ended it the day before he’d left back for New York.”

“Did she ever marry?”

“Not to my knowledge. She’s been in a few high profile relationships, but no...not marriage.”

“Seems sad.” Rona quipped, even as her stomach felt like someone had dropped a lead balloon into it.

“Maybe, but that was a long time ago.”

Rona didn’t reply, she just hummed thoughtfully and finished her fruit and danish. 

“I’m heading back to Chicago, tomorrow.”

Rona glanced up at her Dad, and noticed his eyes watching her closely. 

“Okay.”

“It would be great if you could come home for a visit?”

“Maybe. I can’t leave Violet right now, Dad. Faith and Buffy want us to stick to partners for a bit, especially after what happened to Vi.”

“I understand, but the door is always open.”

“Thanks. I’ll think about it.” Rona then asked, “What’s Bart doing today?”

“Meetings. He’s down at his offices.”

“Okay.”

After another thirty minutes of idle chit-chat, Rona left her Father with a promise to come and see him before he left to go back home. 

As she left the Palace, she instinctively wandered down towards where Diana Payne’s offices were located. It took another hour before she found herself staring at the building that Violet had spoken and taken pictures of. She was about to leave, when she noticed the main foyer door open and Bart walking out, with the lady in question on his arm and they looked awfully chummy. Diana then tossed her head and laughed at something he’d said, and Bart smiled...

... _genuinely_ , and Rona felt her gut twist with red, hot jealousy. 

She moved to a better vantage point, and watched as Bart opened the limo door that was waiting and escorted Diana inside. She kissed his cheek and as she did, Rona noticed Bart chuckling...

...he didn’t seem to be adverse to her advances, either. 

Shaking her head, Rona didn’t know what to think. 

Bart had always been a very good actor. He was excellent at reading people and pandering to their egos to find an in, and determine the best strategy to break them. The fact remained though, that he’d obviously loved Diana Payne at one time enough to seriously consider marriage. However, he’d been single for a while, and hadn’t pursued anything with the woman...

...and knowing Bart as she did, she knew that if he’d wanted the woman back, he would’ve found a way to make it happen. 

So did that mean he was lulling her into a false sense of security to discover what she was doing with Jack and the tart?

“ _Probably_.” Rona whispered to herself, as she watched the limo pull away. 

Later, she made her way back to Hell’s Kitchen, and Violet was waiting for her and the younger girl could tell that she was upset. 

“What happened? Did the brunch not go well?”

“It was fine, Vi. Just processing stuff. It’s gonna take me a while to come to terms with everything.”

“No, I get it.” Violet nodded. “Are you spending the evening with Bart?”

Rona shrugged, as she pulled out her phone and noticed there were no messages. So against her better judgement, she sent one off.

_Hey, you want to do something tonight?_

It was about twenty minutes when she finally got a response. 

**Sorry. I have plans tonight. Rain check?**

Rona’s gaze narrowed, before she answered...

_Not a problem_

She’d made no mention about a rain check, and he didn’t respond back either. 

When the sun went down, she grabbed her stake and Violet did so too, and they were off to go on patrol. She left her phone at home, as she didn’t want to be distracted. 

They headed towards Harlem, and as luck would have it? There was quite a bit of activity. After dusting her eleventh vampire in a bit over two hours, Rona said simply, “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Let’s go get some Chinese.”

“Sounds good.”

Again instinctively, she led Violet near Bryant Park, which was the wrong thing to do, because the fates were really trying to push her buttons when she saw her... _whatever the fuck he was_...walking arm and arm with Diana Payne back out of his hotel and helping her into a waiting car. 

_**At fucking two in the morning.** _

There would be only one reason she’d have been there that late...

Right?

Thankfully, Violet didn’t say anything, but Rona knew that she’d seen it too. 

They’d grabbed their food, and headed home. Once there, Violet decided to speak up. 

“Rona?”

“Vi, don’t okay? It’s not what it looks like.”

“No?”

“No. I mean it looks bad... _really bad._ But I _know_ Bart. I know when he commits to something he takes it seriously, and he’s not the kind of man to cheat.” 

Then Rona shared everything about Jack, the tart and Diana, and Violet scoffed. 

“She’s doing this as payback.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Rona? Hell hath no fury...”

“ _Like a woman scorned_.” Rona finished softly, with a frown marring her face. 

“Exactly.”

“Why now?”

“Don’t know, but I’m sure it’s nothing good. Do you really think he’s just playing her?” Violet asked, her voice filled with concern. “You don’t think he still has a torch for her, do you?”

“I don’t know.” Rona admitted sadly. “Maybe he’s regretting what he offered me.”

Violet didn’t know what to say to that assumption. 

“Don’t you think he’d tell you if he was?” She asked after several moments of heavy silence.

“I would hope so, but with Bart?” Rona shrugged. “He’s always been a master at controlling his emotions. It’s one of his best and worst traits.”

“I don’t think you should assume anything.”

“Okay, Vi? Say you’re right? Why didn’t he just come out and tell me what his play was going to be? Why not tell me he was planning on spending an entire evening with Diana Payne at his place, if he’s not fucking her?”

“Maybe he’d figured you’d try and talk him out of it? Or maybe, he’s afraid of how you might take it.”

“If my Dad hadn’t told me about Bart’s past with Diana, I’d have never known. It looks _bad_.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking so too.” Violet offered hesitantly. “Has he at least called, or texted you?”

Rona stood up and went back into her room to check her phone. But, as she feared, there was no call, nor any text either. 

“Nope.” 

“Wow! Looks _really_ bad.”

Rona nodded and then sighed in resignation. 

“I’m going to go to sleep. See you in the morning?”

“Sounds good. Don’t worry about it too much, if you can.”

“I’ll try not to.” Rona replied, but in her heart she knew she wouldn’t be getting much sleep. 

The next morning she texted her Dad and told him she’d gotten in really late, and wouldn’t be able to meet with him before he left for Chicago. He’d texted back, told her he loved her and that he’d call her later in the week. 

He was being unexpectedly supportive, and it was hard for Rona to process how she would be able to allow her Father back into her life. 

All that day and into the evening, she hadn’t heard anything from Bart, and she was starting to go from feeling hurt and betrayed...

...to being _pissed_.

It wasn’t until about midnight, that he finally texted her...

**Hello, little girl? How are you?**

Rona stared down at the message for about thirty minutes, but decided that she wasn’t going to be petty about this. She wasn’t that kind of person, nor would she allow anyone to make her feel lesser than. 

_I’m on my way out. Talk to you some other time._

She turned off her phone, put it in her drawer and grabbed her stake as she called out for Vi. 

“Patrol?”

“Sure.”

They stayed out all night. 

And in that time, they’d found several vampire and demons nests. 

And she took out all her aggression for six hours straight—beating, punching, kicking and staking everything in her path. 

“Damn!” Violet giggled, as they made their way back home. “You were _on_ one tonight.”

“I like what I do.” Rona smirked. 

By the time they got back to Hell’s Kitchen it was after nine in the morning and Rona took a shower and crashed out. 

It wasn’t until there was a knock on her door around two that afternoon, that Rona woke up. She heard Violet talking to someone, but it wasn’t until she registered who it was...that she jolted up out of her bed. 

_What the fuck was he doing here?_

Then there was a light knock on her door. 

“Come in, Vi.”

Violet’s head popped around the now open doorway, her expression apologetic. 

“It’s _him_.”

“Yeah, I’d figured.” 

Rona yawned and got up, walking into her bathroom...relieving herself, washing her hands and face then brushing her teeth. Violet was now sitting on the edge of her bed, smirking at her best friend—who was in no hurry to greet her lover. 

“Are you going to go out there and talk to him?”

“Eventually.”

“I’m going to go out and get some food. I’ll leave you to it, okay?”

“Thanks, Vi.”

“No problem.”

Rona waited until she heard Violet saying her goodbyes, before she sauntered out into the small living area, where Bart was sitting on her couch—relaxed and watching her like a hawk. 

“Hello, little girl. Did I wake you up?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.” 

His voice indicated he wasn’t exactly sorry, even as his grey eyes were assessing her carefully. 

“No you’re not.” Rona bit back, walking into her kitchen to go get herself some juice. 

She lifted the bottle at him, but he just shook his head in the negative. She poured herself a glass, and then sat down in the single chair adjacent to him. His lips quirked up, but his eyes were blistering. 

“I’ve missed you.” He said smoothly, watching as Rona took a healthy sip of her juice and ignored the comment, as she asked, “Did my Dad leave already?”

He frowned slightly, but nodded. “He did. He was really happy to have had some time with you.”

“I know.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

“Fine.”

She took another sip of her juice and continued to ignore Bart’s piercing look. 

“Rona?”

“Mmhmm?”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t _lie_ to me, little girl.”

She scoffed and went to stand up and was surprised when Bart reached for her and pulled her into his lap. When he went to kiss her, she turned her head instinctively.

His hand gripped her jaw so he could turn her head back to him, and his expression was now clearly displeased. 

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s nothing, Bart.”

“You’re _lying_.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just tired.”

He didn’t reply right away, but his expression didn’t falter—he looked steely and fierce. 

“Rona? Talk to me. I _know_ something is going on.”

She shook her head and pushed herself off of his lap, grabbing her glass and taking it back into her kitchen. She rinsed it out, washed it and set it in the drying rack...trying desperately to ignore Bart’s stormy eyes, as they followed her movements. 

When she was done, she headed into her bedroom and heard him get up to follow her, but he stopped in her doorway—his body leaning up against the door jamb, ankles crossed and arms folded over his muscular chest. He was wearing a three piece Hugo Boss dark grey suit, that matched his eyes...

...and he looked fucking _scrumptious_.

Rona wasn’t sure if she even wanted to have this conversation. She wasn’t going to force Bart to explain himself and she would’ve preferred to have him share his plans of his own volition. But apparently, that wasn’t where his mindset was at. 

And it wasn’t fair of her to expect him to downshift as fast as she’d hoped he would. He was used to doing things himself, trusting in his own judgement and making his own plans. It was unrealistic of her to expect him to share with her at this junction, no matter how much she’d wished otherwise.

But that didn’t excuse him spending quality time at his home, where they’d fucked, with a woman who wasn’t her. 

“You’re deep in thought.” He mused, and she shrugged carelessly. 

“Just tired.”

“Did you have a hard night?”

“Busy.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

“How many?”

“Don’t know. Lost count after I dusted the twentieth.”

Bart blanched, his eyes going wide. 

“I’m sorry? _Twenty_ vampires?”

“No, there were some demons too.”

Bart nodded slowly, his gaze now scope-locked on her. 

“Did Violet get to kill any?”

“Some.” 

She quirked her lips up at that. 

“Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

“ **No**.”

He flinched, as her answer was sharper than she’d intended it to be. 

“Rona?”

“What?”

“Talk to me.” He growled out. “You’re _pissed_ at me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh?”

Her amber gaze lifted, and Bart could see a flickering of _hurt_ , but she masked it quickly and he sighed. 

“How?”

“How what?”

“Don’t play games with me, little girl!” He gritted out. “ _How did you find out?”_

“About?”

He moved off the door jamb and sauntered towards her, his entire demeanor now radiating aggression. 

“Diana.”

“Diana, who?”

“Damn it, Rona!” He hissed out. “Did Robert tell you?”

“Tell me before or after I saw her leaving your hotel at 2am in the morning? Or when she kissed you outside her building?”

Bart glowered. “Are you _stalking_ me?”

Apparently, this was not the right thing to say, as her expression went from aloof to thunderous in a flash. 

“You need to _go_.”

“Fuck that!”

“ **Get out!”**

“Rona...”

She pointed her finger to her front door, and Bart could see that she was serious. 

“Baby girl... _please_ let me explain.”

“Nope. The time for explaining would’ve been _before_. Maybe, when I told you her name and my assumptions of how she was involved? Or maybe, anytime between then and now? I had to hear it from my _Dad_ about your sweet little former romance with the woman. Except, it didn’t look so _former_ to me.”

“Rona...come on! You _know_ me.”

“I do. And I know you wouldn’t cheat, but I also know we haven’t exactly defined our—whatever this is. Kinda a nice little loophole, that you wouldn’t have any problem exploiting if it suited you to do so, _yes_?”

Bart smirked in admiration as he shook his head in wonder. His grey eyes now alight with warmth and desire. 

“You’re so unexpected, little girl.” He chuckled deeply. “I’ve told you I have no problem, with being exclusive.”

“You did...but we didn’t define exactly what that meant. Hence, _loophole_.”

He moved towards her with wicked smirk and her breath stuttered slightly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Diana. I should’ve shared that with you.”

“Yeah, you should have. I know you, Rich man. If you were still hung up on the woman, you would’ve pursued her well before now. She’s never married, according to my Dad. You’ve been single for a while now, so I do know that you’re not holding onto some unrequited romantic flame for the woman. You want her to _think_ it though, right?”

His smirk deepened and he nodded. 

“Do you really think she’s going to buy that, Rich man?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s after revenge for the fact that I jilted her all those years ago. I was going to propose, but what I never told Robert nor anyone but Evelyn, was I’d caught her cheating on me a week before my Father came out and explained to me about the merger with GTC Global and my subsequent arranged marriage with Evelyn. I used it as an excuse to break up with her, as she never knew I’d seen her with someone else.”

“It allowed you to save face, didn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And it didn’t even register with you to share this with me, did it?”

“No, baby girl—and for that, I’m _sorry_.”

“It’s not cool, Bart. Whilst I get that your mindset is still in bachelor, corporate raiding _Bart Bass mode_ —I am not going to offer my _exclusivity_ to you, if you’re going to be seen around New York, wooing and schmoozing the tart.”

He snarled. “ _What the fuck does that mean!”_

“Just _that_.” She shrugged. “If you’re going to be seen with Diana Payne, where Page Six is going to speculate on a potential romance? I’m not going to put myself into a place where I look like the jilted party, no matter what I feel.”

Bart frowned heavily as Rona waved her hand blithely. 

“Didn’t think about that little loophole, _did you?”_

“Rona...”

“Nope. You need to leave, _now_. Figure this out, take her down...get your corporate raiding rocks off and when you’re done? We can revisit this, _if_ I’m still feeling so inclined to do so. But know this now, Bart Bass. No matter how much I love you? I won’t let you take me for granted, nor make me out for a fool. You pull a stunt like this again? You can kiss me goodbye. _Got it?”_

Bart just stood there, a mixture of conflicting feelings welling into into his chest but he could tell that Rona was adamant. And he couldn’t help but be impressed with her resolve, even as it turned him on and made him want to fuck her right then and there. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, not intentionally—and he knew enough to know that he had and Rona was right. 

He was too used to doing things his own way, without having to consult someone else and that apparently, wasn’t going fly anymore. 

“Got it.” He said succinctly. “But know this now, Rona Steward— _I’m not going to be fucking anyone but you...so if you even think of allowing another man near your body, be warned? I’ll destroy that person. Got it?_

“Got it, Rich man.”

He moved down to kiss her, but she swiftly placed her fingers to his lips, effectively stopping his advances. She wasn’t an idiot, because she knew the second she allowed him to kiss her, she wouldn’t be able to resist him.

“Nice _try_ , Mr. Bass. You’re in Siberia until further notice. So, if you’re hoping to ever get lucky again with me? Better figure this shit out _quickly_ , because my patience has limits.”

“As you wish, little girl.”

He turned around, and stormed out of her apartment, slamming her door and leaving her staring after him with an amused expression on her pretty face. 


	75. What’s Mine is Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the final day of their honeymoon, Bruce and Faith discuss the future.

The sun was beating down on the crystal blue waters of the South Pacific, and Faith was currently lounging on the deck of her namesake yacht, sunglasses on her face, a wide brimmed hat upon her head and her husband lathering her skin with suntan lotion. 

The bikini she’d chosen for the afternoon was the skimpiest one she’d purchased. Black string bottoms, Brazilian cut, and a top that barely covered anything. 

Her amorous husband had literally _growled_ when she’d walked out on deck wearing it. 

She had to give it to their security detail though, they were nothing but respectful even if she could sense their emotions.

They weren’t immune to her charms. 

She rolled over, onto her stomach and heard Bruce’s sharp intake of breath. 

“You’re fucking _gorgeous_ , have I told you today?”

“Nope.” She quipped, glancing over her shoulder with a pleased smirk. 

“Do you do this on purpose?”

“What, be myself?”

He chuckled as his hands roved greedily over her semi-exposed backside, cupping it possessively for a brief moment, before rubbing her suntan lotion in. 

“You’re getting very tan.” His voice was husky, and Faith squirmed instinctively, as she liked his Batman voice very much. 

A kink she’d discovered two nights ago, and one that her brilliant husband...being the quick learner that he was? Had employed to quite the pleasurable results for them both. 

“Is it a problem?”

“No, Gorgeous. You look even more beautiful, if possible.”

Rolling over, once Bruce was done with his husbandly duty of making sure she was covered with SPF 50, Faith grinned up at him then trailed a lingering finger down his chest with a hum of appreciation. 

“As are you.”

“Are you enjoying your honeymoon, Mrs. Wayne?”

“Very much so, Mr. Wayne. I honestly can’t remember ever being this relaxed and happy in my life.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good.”

She beamed, which caused Bruce to return the happy look with one of his own. 

“I don’t want to go back home.” He admitted with a soft sigh. “Maybe we should look into buying that island you were talking about?”

Faith giggled for a few moments, until she realized that her husband wasn’t joking. 

“Bruce!” She admonished stunned, “You can’t be serious?”

“And if I am?”

“Then I’d ask if this is a retirement plan, or are you hoping to disappear?”

He snorted out a guffaw. 

“Neither. Just wishful thinking.”

“As much as I’d like to believe we could get away with that, we both know it’s not an option. Too many people are relying on us and I can’t believe I’m going to say this—but we need to be _responsible_.”

The last word was said with just the right amount of disgust, that it caused Bruce to laugh. 

“Fuck, I love you.”

“Ditto, Krasivyy. These ten days flew by, didn’t they?”

“They really did.” Bruce nodded thoughtfully. “But these past few weeks have been the _best_ of my life.”

“ _Ditto_.”

He glanced down and cupped her stomach gently. “You’re just starting to show a bit.”

“I know.”

He leant down and kissed her abdomen sweetly, and Faith ran a hand through Bruce’s thick hair...which was getting longer. He was sporting a slight scruffy beard, and with his longer locks he looked fucking delicious. 

“I really like this look on you.” She said sincerely, and Bruce cocked a smug eyebrow in response. 

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. You look handsome no matter what, _but like this?”_

She shivered, causing Bruce to chuckle deeply, before he leant down and kissed her thoroughly—her hands immediately gripping onto his hair and running her fingers through it, which caused the desired heated response. 

When he finally pulled back, his hazel eyes were blistering with passion. 

“How long?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she asked, “How long what?”

“In your dream? How many years difference do you think there was between Damian, Michael and Zarina?”

Faith sat back as she pondered that very good question. 

“If I had to guess?”

Bruce nodded. 

“Maybe three years between Damian and Micheal and two before Zarina?”

“So you’ll be 27 when Damian is born, 30 for Michael and 32 for Zarina?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right, why?”

“How old was Zarina in your dream, if you had to guess?”

“Maybe four, five at the oldest.”

Bruce did the quick math in his head before he spoke again. 

“So Damian would’ve been around ten or eleven?”

“I guess so, why?”

“Do you think it was a coincidence that you had a dream about them at those specific ages, in Russia?”

Biting her lip, she had to wonder if Bruce wasn’t on to something. 

“I don’t know, but it’s an interesting idea. Are you thinking that within ten years?”

Bruce nodded. “Yeah, that’d be my guess.”

“My prapraded did mention that Vlad was likely sick or would be at some point in the near future. If he dies, it might leave a vacuum of power, that we would need to be ready for.”

“What else did Nicholas tell you?”

Faith shrugged. “Not much. Oh, he did mention that there was a hidden room near my prababushka’s portrait. Said something about whatever is in there, it belongs to me.”

Bruce blanched. “That’s rather an important thing to know, Gorgeous. He didn’t give you any idea what it was?”

“Nope.” 

“How are we going to do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Faith, if what we suspect comes to fruition? You do realize it will likely mean we will have to relocate to Russia at some point? And Damian will likely be living there permanently once he comes of age?”

“I didn’t even think about that.”

“I’d figured, so it begs the question?”

“Bruce, we can live in both worlds just fine. Your company is in Gotham, and at some point our children will grow and find lives for themselves. Spouses, children...but whatever that means for them? That’s okay. We have the resources to live in both Gotham and in Russia. However, it might be good to at least make sure Damian spends as much time as possible there, if for no other reason to so he understands and accepts for himself, what his future holds. If he is to be Czar, or whatever version of that holds true for him, then we need to prepare him.”

“I know. It’s just hard to fathom that our son will likely be, if the Powers have deemed it so, a ruler of his own country. He will be a King, for all intents and purposes. I know that the monarchies of many European countries are no more than figureheads of State, but something tells me Damian’s role is going to be more hands on.”

“I get that feeling too.”

“Yevgeny told me the night at the Samovar, that there would be a few people, himself included, that would be looked to if Vlad were to step down.”

“Did he state if he was interested?”

“No, I get the feeling he likes working behind the scenes a bit too much.”

“Ah, so Ivan?”

“I don’t know. We have Yevgeny’s loyalty and he seems to know who is loyal to Vlad and whom isn’t. It might be a good idea to sit down with him and some point and strategize a plan of action.”

“You and your plans.” Faith snickered, causing Bruce to grin. 

“ _Sue me.”_

“Whatever,” she bantered back playfully, “I suppose it’s not a _horrible_ idea to have a plan.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Krasivyy.”

“We’ll have a bit over a week at home before we have to leave for Russia,” Bruce began, “are you meeting with your OB before or after we get back?”

“Right before. I’ll be fifteen weeks in a couple days, and apparently I’ll need to do some blood work at this next appointment. Supposed to check to make sure everything is fine.”

“And the next appointment at twenty weeks?”

“The 4D sonogram.”

Bruce placed his left hand over his wife’s stomach tenderly. “You’ll be showing fairly well in a few weeks.”

“Yes.” Faith sighed. “I’m thinking it might be a good idea to announce the pregnancy before we leave for Russia. That way, we can escape for a few days and the Press can get their excitement out before we come back.”

“Not a bad idea.”

“There’s the other issue too.”

“Which is?”

“My prababushka’s remains.”

“Ah,” Bruce nodded thoughtfully, “and have you finally decided?”

“Yes. She needs to go _home_ , Bruce. As much as I don’t want to make some kind of political statement, she needs to be buried in Russia. I know it’s what she would’ve wanted, to be returned to her family.”

Swallowing heavily, Bruce sighed. They’d had Anastasia’s remains returned right before they’d gotten married, and Faith had wanted to consider all her options before she’d made a decision. Now that she had, Bruce had to admit—he wasn’t surprised by her choice. 

It was the right one.

“You should probably let Vladim know.”

“I know. Do you think this was a test of some kind?”

“Yes, I do. And one in which you were bound to fail either way. If you’d chosen to have Anastasia interred back in Boston, the message it would’ve sent would have been unfavorable. I’m also thinking something else.”

“Which is?”

“Damian. He needs to be born in Russia.”

Faith blanched at that. 

“Bruce! _We can’t do that!_ We have no idea what that will look like!”

“Hear me out, okay?”

Nodding reluctantly, Faith scrunched her brow and waved her hand for Bruce to get in with it. 

“You’re American born. It’s also true that the Romanov rule was primarily a Patriarchal rule.”

“Except for Catherine the Great.”

Bruce grinned. “You’ve been paying attention in your history lessons with Roger?”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled, then forged ahead. “The fact remains, Gorgeous, that while your heritage is mostly Russian, Damian’s will be even less so. If he is to have a legitimate right to rule, he needs to be born in Russia. Preferably in St. Petersburg but...”

Faith’s expression turned contemplative. 

“At one of the Romanov homes?”

“Yes. I’m thinking that’s another thing your dream might’ve meant.”

“ _Maybe_.” She bit her lip in thought. “You did promise to help Vlad with some business stuff, right?”

“I did.”

“And Pavel? How’s that going?”

Bruce smirked at the change of subject. “Very well. It was exactly as I’d _suspected_. The tech is viable, but Leonid was purposefully self-sabotaging the process. He didn’t want the tech falling into the hands of the Russian government and definitely didn’t want Miranda getting her hands on it either.”

“You’re fucking sexy when you go all business, Krasivyy. You do know that Bart has likely figured it out, right?”

“What? That he got played?”

“Mmhmm,” She smirked back, “how long do you think it’ll take Leonid to develop the first reactor?”

“Three years, give or take. The patent process will add maybe another year onto it.”

“And can it be converted back to a nuclear reactor?”

“Hypothetically, it can. However, Lucius is working on a way to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“And how much is this tech worth, potentially?”

“ _Trillions_.”

Faith’s gaze narrowed, before she tilted her head back and laughed out loud in glee. 

“You’re _unbelievable_ , Wayne! You just can’t stand the fact that I have more money than you do, can you? If this works? You’ll be even richer than me.”

Bruce winked, his face breaking out into a wicked grin even as his body shook with mirth. 

“You’re amazing.” He said after a moment. “But, _yes_...”

“Huh? I guess I won’t be the richest one in the room anymore?”

“Not true, Gorgeous. What’s _mine is yours_...”

“Ours, Krasivyy. _Ours_...”

“ _ **Exactly**_.”


	76. Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Faith spend an evening with John and Buffy.

It wasn’t too long after Bart had stormed out of her apartment, that Rona had received a call from Willow. The spyware program that she’d had Rona download had finally hit pay-dirt. Thankfully the IWC computer systems were fully protected against man and magical, and it was a day later that Rona had the flash drive in her hand with all the pertinent information she needed to put her own plans into motion. 

Normally, she’d have called Bart and shared this with him—but as she wasn’t speaking with him—nor returning his texts; Rona had decided that she would handle this _her_ way. There was actually a fourth way to corporate raid, and while most business people might frown upon it, she knew exactly what Bart Bass would think of it. 

Once he’d figured it out. 

Faith had called her too. She and Bruce were leaving San Francisco after visiting with Bruce’s old college fuck buddy and her new baby. Faith had mentioned how small the little infant was, and that now that she’d held a baby that tiny? 

She was freaking out!

Rona had laughed at her friend, and told her that it would be just fine. Babies were tougher than they looked and she wasn’t going to break her son. 

She wasn’t sure if Faith believed her or not. 

She had also received a text from her Father, stating he would be flying to Gotham in a couple days to meet with Bruce and Bart. Rona had smirked at that. Glancing down at the previous Sunday edition of Page Six, right there in black and white was a picture of Bart and Diana, walking out of Le Cirque...and of course, speculation was rife that they were a couple. 

Rona had to wonder what was going to happen when her Dad or Faith, happened upon this little juicy tidbit of information. 

That thought made her smile. 

As it turned out, she was right in her assumptions because the next day when Faith got back to Gotham, Buffy and John were there with the newspaper. 

“ _What the fuck is this!”_

John chuckled, while Buffy rolled her eyes. 

“My nosy boyfriend, happened upon this and thought you’d want to know. Have you heard from Rona?”

“Yes, I just talked to her yesterday, and she never even mentioned this!”

“Gorgeous...”

“Don’t, Bruce. I’m not an idiot, but _come on!_ What is he _thinking_?”

“Why do I get the feeling we’re missing something?” John postulated with a lopsided grin. 

“Diana Payne,” Faith bit out, “she’s working with Jack Bass and Bart’s ex-wife, Misty. Rona affectionately calls her **_the tart,_** but apparently—she seems to think they’re trying to find a way into Bass Incorporated.”

“You mean, someone is actually trying to corporate raid the _Prince of Darkness?”_

Buffy snorted as both she and Faith eyed each other with matching smirks. 

“Faith mentioned that you’d met the actual Prince of Darkness, Buffy.” Bruce queried curiously, and John turned his head her way, and she could feel his questioning gaze settle on her. 

“I did.”

“You met _Dracula_?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” John scoffed. “What happened with that?”

“He wasn’t scary at all. Although he did try and turn Xander into his own personal Igor.”

Faith bowled over and laughed. 

“Not nice, Faith.”

“Oh, come on, B! That’s _hysterical_. Was Xander, old Vlad’s personal butt monkey?”

Bruce whipped his head, startled at the colorful metaphor, while John just lost it. 

“Gorgeous...”

“How did you know that?” Buffy grinned. 

“Eh, Xander liked to use that phrase now and then.”

They all laughed at that. 

Eventually though, Faith sat back in a huff. “Bart and Robert are coming tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.” Bruce smirked. “What is going around in that diabolical mind of yours, Gorgeous?”

“Nothing good.” Buffy quipped, causing Faith to stick her tongue out at her. 

“I have a phone call to make. Excuse me.”

Faith stood up and went outside to the balcony, where Bruce could watch her talking animatedly with whom was likely, Rona. 

“Is she going to skin Bart alive?” John asked seriously, “Cause I applaud the idea, for the record.”

“No, but something tells me she’ll make her feelings known some other way.”

When Faith walked in a few moments later, she had a pleased grin on her face. 

“Do I want to know?” Bruce queried, half-serious. 

“Not especially.” She prevaricated as she leant down and petted Baba and Yaga, who had been beside themselves when she and Bruce had gotten home early this morning and they hadn’t left her side all day. 

“They missed you.” Bruce rubbed Yaga under his muzzle, and Faith hummed in the affirmative.

“They missed _both_ of us. I asked Vlad if I could bring them to Russia. I don’t want to leave them again, even if it is for four days.”

“Faith...” Buffy lamented softly, “That’s a long flight for two dogs.”

“I know, but I feel horrible.” She slid down and Bruce watched with a satisfied smile as Baba and Yaga both moved over and cuddled with their Mistress. She showered them with affection, petting Baba’s belly as his tongue lolled out of his mouth. 

“You’re going to be the _best mom_ ,” John offered sincerely, “and you’re already starting to show.”

Faith glanced up and felt Bruce’s emotions spike. There was love, adoration for her and a hint of exasperation towards John, but to his credit he didn’t comment. 

“Thanks, John.”

“Not a problem.”

Buffy nudged her boyfriend playfully, and he pulled her into his side—kissing her temple lovingly. 

“So you staying in Gotham, B?”

“Yes. John is rather persuasive.”

“Eh, I do what I can.” 

Buffy locked eyes with Faith and asked silently...

_Are you really okay with me living in Gotham?_

_**Are you keeping him?** _

_Yes..._

_**Then we will figure it out. You look happy.** _

_I am._

_**Are you in love with him?** _

_Yes..._

**_Shit!_ **

_I know. You look utterly blissful. Marriage agrees with you._

_**Bruce agrees with me.** _

Faith could feel her husband’s mind nudging hers, and Buffy internally gasped as she broke eye contact and glared at Bruce in shock. 

“How?”

Bruce chuckled deeply, at how stunned Buffy appeared, and he could feel his wife’s amusement. 

“Buffy, I trained for seven years in Southeast Asia with the League. The amount of mind mediations I did as part of my training were substantial. It was only a matter of time before this happened.”

John’s gaze moved between the other three in the room, and there was a slight frown marring his features as he asked, “What am I missing?”

Green eyes locked with brown and Faith nodded. 

“Faith and Bruce can communicate telepathically.”

“ _Excuse me?”_ John hissed in shock. 

“Don’t look so _surprised_ , John.” Bruce bit out with only a slight inflection of sarcasm.

“You two really are fated.” He said softly, and Faith cocked her head at him, as she asked, “ _ **Where did that come from?”**_

“Angel. He mentioned to me on our way back from Morocco, that he’d suspected that you both were fated. Said that he realized it in Zurich, after Bruce walked in on you two talking.”

Faith blushed, and Bruce sighed. Buffy however, just seemed confused. 

“What were you two discussing?” Buffy inquired with interest. 

When Faith didn’t reply right away, green eyes lifted to blistering hazel ones—but Bruce didn’t reply either. 

“I’m sorry,” John said contritely, “I didn’t mean to overstep?”

“You didn’t, John.” Faith replied quietly. “It’s just not a time in my life I like to revisit, is all.” Her brown eyes then met blue, and she asked, “What else did he tell you?”

“That he’d talked to you before you’d decided to come to Gotham, and that he’d suspected where your mind was at.”

Faith bit her lip and nodded. “I _see_.”

“Was he right?”

“Yes.”

John glanced over at Wayne, and he could feel the despair and worry radiating from the man. 

“Then perhaps he was right.”

“Faith?” Buffy queried hesitantly, “What am I missing?”

“B, it’s not a big deal.”

“Apparently it is, because I’m the only one who doesn’t know.”

“If you _must_ know, I had made the decision before I came to Gotham that I was done.”

“Done?”

“Come on, B? You know what I mean.”

Buffy blanched, her eyes widening with pained understanding.

“Faith?” She shook her head. “ _Why_?”

The brunette shrugged. “I was going through the motions of living, but not being alive. I hadn’t felt alive in so long. You remember when you’d mentioned when you’d come back from Heaven how everything hurt?”

“Yes.”

“That was what everyday was like for me. Everything _hurt_. It took all my energy some mornings to just get up and face another day. If it hadn’t been for Rona and Violet? I think I would’ve given up a lot sooner. After Bruce and I, saved Vi—I made the decision to try harder. To figure out how to find a way to live.”

“I wish you would’ve told me.”

“B, as much as I care for you, it’s not your job to fix me. It was my job to fix myself.”

“It seemed the Powers knew we needed to come here.” Buffy admitted and then nodded to Bruce. “ _Thank you.”_

“For what?”

“For giving Faith a reason to live and be happy.”

Bruce bowed his head humbly. “She gave me a reason to be live and be happy, Buffy. I’m just returning the favor, most willingly.”

Faith beamed at her husband, as she opened her mind and said...

_I love you..._

**And I love you...** Bruce replied back silently, with a wink.


	77. Healthy Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Faith confront Bart.

The following day found Bruce sitting in the living room of his Penthouse (now he and Faith’s), waiting for Bart and Robert to show. His wife, had taken her dogs outside for a walk with Buffy and John earlier...as she’d been pacing non-stop around their Penthouse all morning like a predator waiting to devour its prey. 

Bruce had thought she was fucking adorable, and had summarily told her so. 

When he’d gotten a call from John about thirty minutes after they’d left the Penthouse, that they were being followed by several stalking paparazzi, Bruce had demanded that John bring his wife back home before she got arrested for aggravated assault. 

Hence why she was now downstairs in her former apartment, going through her things and moving her stuff up into their bedroom upstairs. 

He grinned when the elevator door opened and Faith stormed inside, with an unhappy scowl on her beautiful face. 

“Are you sure I can’t help, Gorgeous?”

“No, I need to get some excess energy out before _he_ shows up. Are they on their way, yet?”

“Yes, Bart texted and said they’d be here in about ten minutes.”

Faith glanced down, her scowl deepening at the daily edition of the Times, sitting on their coffee table with a new picture of Bart and Diana front and center on Page Six.

“Do you think Robert knows?”

Bruce stood up and followed his wife upstairs, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her put her clothes into their closet next to his things. 

“Probably not.” Bruce admitted with a casual shrug. “How’s Rona?”

“Fine.” Faith replied shortly. 

“ _Gorgeous_?”

“Huh?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me something?”

Faith popped her head out of the closet and narrowed her gaze at her husband in challenge. 

“Krasivyy, would I keep secrets from you?”

“Possibly, but only if Rona asked you to.”

“Maybe.”

“Am I going to be upset?”

“Nope. At least, I doubt it.”

Bruce’s tilted his head in contemplation before his face morphed into a wicked smirk. 

“How much?”

“How much, what?”

“I’m not an idiot, Gorgeous. You’re the only person who has that kind of liquid assets handy. So, again? How much?”

Faith sighed in defeat. 

“ _Enough_.”

Bruce moved over and reached for her, pulling his wife into his embrace and lifting her chin up so he could have her undivided attention. 

“Was this Rona’s idea?”

“Yes. She’s rather devious and quite smart too, when it comes to business. Willow was able to help, too—and apparently? Rona invited someone else to play the game with her. It’s a solid plan, and that’s all I’m going to tell you right now.”

“And if it works, what then?”

“Then Rona can decide if she wants to play in the big leagues on her own, or not.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then it’ll be more money for me, in this little game we have going on.”

Bruce chuckled deeply as he growled out, “I love you.”

“And I love you. Now go downstairs and wait for our guests. I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Are you going to behave?”

“Just who do you think you’re talking to, Krasivyy?”

“My gorgeous, devious and amazing, wife.”

“That works.” She beamed and then kissed him, before turning him around and nudging him out of their bedroom. 

His rich, husky laughter echoing down the hall, caused Faith to smile. 

When Bruce got downstairs, Alfred was just getting off the house phone. 

“Your guests are on their way up, Master Wayne.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Can you check in with Faith and see what she wants for dinner later?”

“Of course.”

Bruce made himself comfortable back in his preferred seat and was just setting aside a report of Lucius on Leonid’s progress, when the elevator dinged and in walked Bart and Robert. 

Standing up, Bruce casually made his way over, hand outstretched.

“Bart, Robert...welcome.”

“Bruce.” Robert nodded, shaking his hand firmly. 

“Wayne.” Bart followed suit, and Bruce waved them over. 

“Can I offer either of you a drink?”

“I’d love a glass of scotch, if you have it.” Robert replied and Bart nodded in acceptance, so Bruce walked over to his liquor cart and poured three glasses of his best scotch. He handed one to Robert first, then Bart—before settling down with his own tumbler. 

When Robert took a sip, his eyebrows lifted in appreciation. 

“Dalmore Constellation?”

“Yes.” Bruce bowed his head. “1972.”

“Very nice.”

“Thank you.”

“So how was the Honeymoon?” Bart quipped, his lifted smirk knowing. 

“It was perfect.” Bruce replied easily enough. 

“Quite the _talented_ wife you have.” Robert grinned. 

“Faith is extraordinary in everything she does.”

“How’s she feeling?” Bart inquired, and Bruce was surprised at the thoughtful question. 

“Good. Morning sickness seems to be gone, so there’s that. We have an appointment with her OB before we leave for Russia.”

“I have to ask,” Bart began, “how in the world did you end up at a street race in Argentina, of all places?”

“Faith ran into an old friend and apparently, they knew each other from the LA racing scene some years ago. She’d made a firm impression there, and he offered to sponsor her in the race. The car she drove was shipped here last week as payment for her winning the race.”

Both men chuckled. “1971 Jensen Interceptor.” Bart smirked. “440 low block V8.”

“You know your cars, Bart.” A female voice spoke up from the top of the stairs, and all eyes turned to Faith, as she sauntered down the steps towards them. 

“I get by.” He quipped. 

“Hmm, that reminds me, Krasivyy? I need to make arrangements to ship my car from Cleveland, here.”

“Of course.”

“What kind of car, Faith?”

“It’s a retro mod Nismo 350Z. Built it myself.”

Both men stared at her in awe, and then Bart shook his head in wonder. 

“There’s really not a single thing you can’t do, is there?”

“Not so far.” She bit back with a smug smile, as she took the hand that Bruce was offering and sat down on his lap. “How are you, Robert?”

“Doing well.” He nodded politely. “Busy, but that’s normal.”

“And Rona?”

Faith felt Bart’s emotions surge, but to his credit? His outward demeanor was calm, cool and collected. 

“Spoke with her yesterday. She’s been busy with her calling.”

Faith then turned her dark eyes to Bart and said evenly, “You’ve been busy, too... _haven’t_ you, Bart?”

The older man sighed and then his eye caught on the paper and the picture prominently displayed. 

“ _Faith_...”

“Oh, _no_...you don’t get to take that tone with _me_.”

Robert glanced over at his friend and asked in confusion, “Bart, what is going on?”

“You mean you haven’t _seen_ the paper, Robert?”

The man in question glanced down to where Faith was gesturing, his gaze narrowing at the picture, before he picked it up and perused the article...and Faith could feel his confusion changing to surprise...

...and then to _anger_...

“ _Old friend?”_

Bart sighed. “Look, Rona _knows_ what I’m doing...”

“Oh?” Faith leant forward. “Was this before or after your picture was in the paper on Sunday?”

Bart took in Faith’s posture, which was on edge while Wayne was smirking smugly at him—just waiting to see what his wife was going to do. 

“Fine. I might’ve not _exactly_ told Rona before she’d discovered my plan...”

“And why not?”

“Because he’s a _fucking idiot._ ” Robert growled out lowly. 

“Takes one to know one, eh? Old friend?”

“Don’t you pull that bullshit with me, Bart!”

“Oh, come off it, Robert! You and I both know that I’d _never_ cheat on your daughter!”

“ _Oh_?” Faith hissed, before she whistled out loud and she felt Bruce’s body shaking with mirth as Baba and Yaga scampered into the room. As they came around the couch, Faith grinned as both men’s eyes widened at her babies. “Meet Baba and Yaga. These cuties used to belong to the Chechen...bad dude. Drug dealer, and overall scumbag. What _happened_ to him, Krasivyy?”

“You turned his trained killer Rottweilers against him.”

“I **did** , didn’t I?”

She then snapped her fingers and the dogs turned and growled lowly at Bart. 

“I gave you the benefit of the doubt, Bart. Rona _loves_ you, and therefore I can’t kill you, but I can _maim_ you.”

Bart eyed the snarling dogs carefully, but he was more worried about the hormonal, pregnant woman who was eyeing him like prey. 

Rona was _right_...

_**Faith would have no problem eating him for lunch...** _

“Faith, this really isn’t necessary.”

“It is in my book.” Robert deadpanned. 

“You’re not _helping_ , old friend!”

Bruce _grinned_. 

“Give me one good reason why I don’t let my dogs have a go at you, Bart?”

“Because I’m in love with Rona and plan to ask her to _marry_ me.”

Faith’s head whipped back in shock, but one look at Robert let her know that Bart wasn’t lying. 

In fact...she could feel the sincerity wafting off Bart in waves. 

“Crap!” She stood up and then threw her hands over her head in disgust. “You just had to go and _ruin_ , all my fun!”

“Gorgeous?”

Faith pointed a warning finger at her husband. “Don’t! I can’t go out and Slay right now, and obviously”... _She pointed at Bart_ _in disgust.._.”I can’t go after him now, either!” 

Baba and Yaga growled again, and Faith sighed. 

“ _Nyet! Dostatochno!”_

(No, that’s enough!)

Both dogs sat back on their haunches and stared up beseechingly at their Mistress. 

“Shit.” Bart shook his head again. 

“I’m warning you, Bass?” Faith bit out, “You better not be lying to me!”

“I’m _not_ , Faith. Really. I’m just trying to figure out the best way to handle this situation.”

“Not as easy as you’d thought it’d be?” Bruce snarked, earning himself a heated glare from Bart. 

“I’m working on it.” He sighed. “Rona warned me though, that her patience has limits.”

“Is it true, what she told me about Diana?” Faith queried lowly.

Bart nodded. “It is.” He then leant forward and turned his head to his friend and said, “I never told you, Robert—but the real reason I ended my relationship with Diana all those years ago at school was because I’d caught her cheating the week before we were set to graduate. When my Father flew out from New York and told me about Evelyn, what I’d never shared was Bass Incorporated was near financial ruin. He’d nearly bankrupted the company and only a merger with GTC would allow the company to remain solvent long enough for me to take over. I agreed to marry Evelyn, and I told her about Diana. She was the only one I’d ever confided in, before I shared the truth with Rona. I saved my family’s company, and ousted my Father with the help of the board. The problem is? I think that Jack has managed to infiltrate my board and I can’t seem to find the culprit, or culprits who are helping him and by extension, Diana.”

“She’s trying to undermine you?”

“Rona surmised that she and Jack were planning on going after Chuck, by gaining access as him and margining his stock in the futures market.”

“Thereby causing Bass stock to go into free fall...”

“And make it ripe for a corporate takeover.”

“So what did you do?”

“Chuck signed his stock back over to me, temporarily. Which won’t stop my brother. If I know him at all.”

“Maybe you need to cut this off at the pass?” Faith offered sweetly. 

“In what way?”

“Call their bluff?”

“They _aren’t_ bluffing, Faith.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But sometimes, offense is the best defense. Diana thinks you don’t know about her little deal with Jack and the tart. So if it was me? I’d disabuse them of that idea. Take the offense back, Bart. You _suck_ at defense.”

She leant down and kissed Bruce, before leaving the room, her dogs following closely.

All three men watched Faith leave, and Bruce just sat back and smirked. 

“She’s right, you know.”

“I know. I suppose I need to change tactics.”

“That would be a good idea, old friend.”

“There’s a board meeting scheduled on the 22nd.” Bart admitted lowly, “I guess it might be a good time to shake the tree and see what falls out.”

“Do you have board meetings monthly?” Bruce asked, and Bart nodded. 

“I do. Why?”

“Just curious. Wayne Enterprises also follows that practice. Lucius likes to keep things running smooth.”

“He’s quite the genius.” Bart postulated. “Of course, he’d have to be.”

Bruce’s gaze narrowed in warning. “Be very careful, Bart.”

“He knows.” Bart grinned mischievously, causing Bruce to sit back and eye both men darkly. 

“Knows what?”

“Bruce,” Robert piped in, “I figured it out about a year ago, more or less.”

“ _Oh_?”

“Yes, and I must say I wasn’t sure what to think of it at first—but over time, I’ve come to understand the _why_. When Mr. Giles came and spoke with me about Rona and her calling, as you know I handled it very poorly, but as time passed? I had to come to terms with the fact that what he’d shared was the truth. Once that happened, it opened my eyes to so many other things. People see what they want to see, and for me? I’ve spent the ensuing years since my wife died, in denial of so much. It wasn’t until Rona disappeared, that I was able to shake myself out of my apathy for life. I love Rona dearly, but she was always so self sufficient. There was apart of me that hurt when I saw her. She’s so much like her Mother, especially her eyes. It’s no excuse, I know.”

“No, it’s not,” Bruce replied sympathetically, “but you’ve been given a chance to make it right, Robert. I wish everyday, I could’ve made a different choice with my own parents.”

“What do you mean?”

Bruce sighed heavily, leaning forward and gripping his hands together as he considered his next words carefully. 

“The night my parents were killed, we’d gone to the Opera. Some time before then, I’d fallen into an abandoned well on my family estate and broke my arm...but inside the well, it led to caverns underneath Wayne Manor where there were hundreds of bats. They attacked me, and the fear it left me with was very hard to deal with. That night at the Opera, my parents took me to see Mefistofele, and I panicked and begged them to take me home—which they did. They never made it home.”

Both men stared at Wayne, as if they were seeing him for the first time. 

“You blamed yourself.” Bart stated evenly, and Bruce nodded. 

“I still do. That kind of pain and guilt never goes away. Faith has helped me come to terms with it, and finally move past it where it doesn’t consume every part of my life, but before I disappeared? I was a broken shell. It took me leaving Gotham for seven years to find my way back. I couldn’t let my parents die in vain, hence that’s why I decided to try and do something about it.”

“By becoming a vigilante?”

“A vigilante is just a man scraping for his own sense of self-gratification. Batman is a symbol to the people of Gotham that they don’t need to live in fear. Maroni, Gambol, the Chechen...the Joker...they’re all gone. For the first time in who knows how long? Gotham has a chance to be better and maybe, _heal_. If I can spare even one child my fate, then I’ve done my job.”

“Where were you during your time away?” Bart asked curiously. “I’ve always wondered.”

“Southeast Asia. Nanda Parbat.”

Robert shook his head. “I’ve heard rumors of that area.”

“And what have you heard?”

“Nothing specific, just that there was an underground organization located there.”

“There _was_. They’re no longer a threat.”

Bart cocked his head and then grinned. “Miranda Tate.”

“Yes. Her Father was the man who came to Gotham three years ago and tried to destroy the city. He was the one who burnt my home down.”

Bart nodded sheepishly, at Wayne’s pointed glare. 

“I’m sorry about my previous assumption, Wayne.”

“It’s what I wanted people to believe, Bart. If they’d suspected that I was Batman, it would put those I’d cared about in harms way. Faith, can take care of herself, as shown by how deftly she handled the Joker. I’ll never have to worry about someone trying to retaliate against my wife for my actions, because if they tried? She’d destroy them before I’d ever get the chance to.”

“Why are you sharing this with us, Bruce?” Robert asked. 

“Because both of you need to understand a few truths. First, my wife considers Rona and Violet family. There is nothing she won’t do to protect those two from harm. You both are going to be part of Rona’s life going forward, so therefore? We will need to try and find common ground. Bart, you know I don’t trust you. However, I can see you care for Rona—so I’m willing to extend an olive branch for the sake of my wife, because I have no doubt she’d come after you if you betrayed me or Rona.”

“I get that.” Bart chuckled. “And I’m not unaware of a few truths either, Wayne. Pavel? Did you _think_ I wouldn’t figure it out?”

“No, I’d assumed you would in time. You’re both aware by now, that there’s a recession coming. What you aren’t aware of is this—Czar Nicholas...before he died, set up a prospective portfolio with Bank Suisse that predicted the market for almost exactly 100 years after his death.”

Bruce smirked, at the stunned expressions on both men’s faces. 

“Faith’s net worth is just over 200 billion. Once the recession is over, she will easily triple her net worth based on our information.”

“Fucking hell!” Robert hissed, while Bart just sat back completely flummoxed. It was more than even they’d suspected. 

“What do you want from us?” Bart inquired at last. “That’s why we’re here, _right_?”

Bruce could see Robert’s expression change from shocked to contemplative rather quickly, as he too—was wondering the same thing. 

“Pavel’s tech is viable. The Russian government tried to replicate it, but were unsuccessful because he’d purposefully made sure they couldn’t. Same with Tate Conglomerate. I’d suspected that was the case when I went after him, and as it turned out? I was _right_.”

“That was an awfully big gamble, Wayne.” Bart grumbled, impressed in spite of himself. 

“ _Play big, or go home, Bass.”_ Bruce quipped. “I don’t just play to win, I play to **conquer**. In five years time, Wayne Enterprises will own the market on green technology. As my gorgeous wife so kindly pointed out to me on our honeymoon, my net worth will eclipse her own.”

“Dream _on_ , Krasivyy!”

Faith’s voice bellowed from upstairs, and all three men roared back with laughter. 

Bruce shook his head in amusement, as both Robert and Bart were snickering too. 

“Is this going to be some fucked up competition between the two of you?” Bart snarked and based on Bruce’s smug grin, Bart figured it would be just that. 

“Faith likes to play the game just like I do, Bass. She’s rather competitive.”

“I’ll bet that’s the understatement of the century.” Robert deadpanned. 

“Possibly,” Bruce admitted, “however, my rationale for bringing you both here is for an entirely different reason.”

“And that is?”

Bruce glanced at Bart, and the older man could see the clear resolve in Wayne’s gaze and he suddenly realized what this was about. 

“She’s had another dream, hasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Dream?” Robert piped in. “I don’t understand.”

Bart sighed. “Old friend, that night that Rona saved us, she knew we were in danger. The Powers that Be, have blessed Slayers with the ability to have visions of the future. For Buffy and Faith, these portents come in the form of dreams, but for Rona and the others? I suspect it’s more of a general feeling or sixth sense.”

Robert glanced back and Wayne, and Bruce nodded in silent understanding. 

“So, Faith had a dream, of the future?”

“Two. The first was after she’d taken the Joker down. She dreamt we were having a son, she knew his name. When we were in New York, Faith met with her Aunt Zarina who gave her a letter addressed to her from her Great-Grandfather Nicholas. He addressed her as Nickolayevna, and he knew our son’s name. Damian is destined to rise to Czar and reinstate the Romanov name back to power.”

“ _Shit_.”

“Yes. It’s been a huge truth for me to comprehend, but one I need to prepare for. In Buenos Aires, Faith had another dream. This time she was in the Hermitage, and Nicholas was there. They spoke and he shared several things with her.”

“Such as?” Bart asked seriously. 

“Vladim Pushkin is not long for this world. Whether he knows it as of yet, or will soon enough...based on Faith’s dream, he will be afflicted with some kind of illness that will eventually take his life. In the vacuum left, Damian will be named Czar. Most likely before he turns ten, but the timing from her dream, isn’t exact. I figure I have a good five years to put my plans into action. We’re also going to make sure he’s born in Russia.”

“It will give him the legitimate claim.” Bart nodded.

“Yes. We are working out the logistics now. We will be leaving for Russia in a week. Nicholas indicated there is something in the Hermitage near Anastasia’s portrait that is meant for Faith. It’s in a secret room located within the palace.”

“The Imperial Crown.” Robert replied instantly. 

“That can’t be right,” Bart postulated, “it’s housed within the Kremlin.”

“It’s got to be a fake.” Robert shook his head. “Mind you, it’s only an educated guess. But I do remember hearing a rumor long ago about some of the Russian Crown Jewels that had gone missing and it would be the one thing that would legitimize Faith’s right to the House of Oldenburg.”

“It’s a definite possibility.” Bruce hummed thoughtfully, before pulling out a box from his jacket pocket and handing it to Robert. When the man opened it, he hissed out in reverence. 

“Is this what I think it is?”

“Nicholas II Coronation Ring. It was given to a vampire, known as the Immortal, to keep in safe keeping until now. He was also the one who ferried Anastasia out of Russia before her family was killed.”

“Bruce,” Robert shook his head as he handed back the ring box, “how can we help with this?”

“Vlad is looking for initial investiture into the Russian economy. Many of his advisors, and those within his government are unhappy with some of his economic and globalist policies, however? Russia, if it’s going move forward, and become prosperous will need that capital. Nicholas told Faith that she needs to take care of their people. We all know how that works. We also know how to use this to our advantage. I’m offering you both a way in.”

“And if it doesn’t work, what then?” Robert asked. 

“It **will**.” Bruce growled out in his Batman voice. “Because I won’t allow my _son_ , to be denied what is _rightfully his.”_

Both men side-eyed each other warily, but it was Bart who spoke up. “I’ve already pledged myself to this, Wayne, but who else is on board?”

“John Daggett. Lily, Eleanor, Blair, the IWC, Yevgeny Grimov, Wolfram and Hart, Balthazar, Zephyr, Karl Stroessner, Ivan Lebedev and the Immortal, just for starters. Faith also has contacts within the FBI, and we have potential access to some underground players, if we need them.”

“Impressive.” Robert nodded. “I’m in.” He offered with absolutely no hesitation. “Rona would want me to, and this will assure her future as well. I know there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for Faith, and vice versa. Also, I _owe_ it to my daughter to support those things I know she would support.”

Bruce smiled softly and nodded in gratitude. When he glanced up, it was to his wife who was at the top of the stairs, her expression openly pleased. 

“ _Thank you,_ Robert.” Her voice floated over them, and the man turned and gazed upwards, bowing his head in welcome. 

“Of course. It’s really the least I can do for how well you’ve taken care of Rona over these years. I understand she calls you mom.”

“She _does_. Both she and Violet do. As much as I whine and bitch at them for it, I get why they need to call me that.”

“I’m grateful.” Robert admitted with a sigh. “I can’t go back and change the past, but I _won’t_ let my daughter down again.”

“I think she knows it too, deep down.” Faith replied, giving Bruce a small smile before she disappeared back into their bedroom. 

“So what now?” Bart asked.

“Now, we prepare.” Bruce’s voice was clear and resolved and for probably the first time, Bart could see the Batman part of Wayne’s personality shine through and he had to admit...

...he was _impressed_. 


	78. Hostile Takeover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana and Jack play their hand and Rona plays hers.

It was days later, and Bart had to admit—as he sat across from Diana at her favorite bistro in downtown Manhattan, that there was a part of him deep down inside...that had wondered why Diana had cheated on him so long ago. He’d thought they were truly happy, and he’d _adored_ her. Lavished her with attention and had given her everything she’d ever wanted from him. Including his heart—and she’d stomped all over it without so much as a single thought. 

And it had fundamentally _broken_ something inside of him. 

She was still beautiful. Long brown hair, sharp blue eyes and a figure to die for. Even at forty-four, she was stunning. 

But she _wasn’t_ Rona.

Rona—who still wasn’t returning his phone calls, nor any of his texts. 

Rona, who knew him better than even Diana had...

Even after seeing him with Diana—Rona _knew_ that he wasn’t the kind of man to cheat. It wasn’t in his playbook. For all his faults, and fuck! He had many! 

Being unfaithful wasn’t one of them. 

He’d loved Evelyn, in his own way—but his heart had been so badly damaged by Diana’s betrayal that he’d closed off a part of himself from his wife. Evelyn had loved him and had sacrificed her own life to give him an Heir, and she’d never asked for more than he was willing to give her. 

And now there was Rona...

Who loved him, knew him, and wanted a future with him. 

Who didn’t care about his wealth, nor his name. 

She just wanted _him_.

“You’re very far away.” Diana’s musical voice lifted him out of his own morbid thoughts. 

“Just processing.”

“About?”

Bart’s grey eyes settled onto the woman across from him, and he decided that Faith was _right_. 

He needed to get back to playing _offense_...

Because he hated being on the defensive side of the game!

“Stanford. Our time together?”

“Oh?” Diana smiled brightly. “And what thoughts were you dwelling upon?”

“Do you remember that last party at Jason’s house?”

Diana nodded, and Bart could see her shoulders tensing slightly. 

“I do.”

“That was a _funny_ night.”

“In what way?”

“Well?” He took a measured sip of his water and then set his glass down, his gaze now scope-locked on Diana as he bit out, “I seem to recall finding you and Perry Johnson in one of the guest rooms together. I do believe there wasn’t much room for interpretation as to what he was _doing_ to you, Diana.”

Bart watched with satisfaction as Diana’s expression fell. Her eyes clouded over briefly, before they refocused back on him once again. 

“Was that _why_?”

“I dumped you?”

She nodded. 

“Yes. Call me crazy, Diana...but did you _honestly_ think I would ever marry a woman who would cheat on me? I had planned to propose, you know? Had the ring and _everything_...but thankfully, I was spared that travesty.”

Her cheeks reddened in fury, and Bart could tell he was _finally_ seeing the real Diana Payne. 

And he decided to go for broke...

“I _loved_ you, but you weren’t worthy of that love, Diana. I held onto that hurt for years, taking it into my marriage with Evelyn, who was a perfect wife and she deserved so much more than I ever gave to her. _And for what?_ It’s taken me years to finally figure this out, and you know what I’ve decided?”

“What?”

“ _ **That I’d rather have nothing, then lose the one person in my life that makes me feel alive.”**_

Bart stood up and opened his wallet, dropping a thousand on the table and scoffed. 

“I hope you’re prepared, Diana.” Bart warned ominously, “Because if you think you can help Jack and the tart, take me down? You don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with, but you _will_.”

Bart stormed out of the restaurant, and noticed several curious stares following him. 

He had no doubt that Jack would make his move sooner rather than later, and as usual...

... _he was right.._.

He’d been watching the market closely, and had noticed that Bass Inc. stock was in play on Monday. It was then that Bart knew, that Diana and Jack were going to do this the old fashioned way. 

Once the threshold hit five percent, his banker called to give him a heads up. 

Bart had thanked the man, and got his ducks in a row. 

Because Tuesday morning at 10am? He’d be facing his board, and likely—his Brother and Diana—as well as whomever they’d convinced to join them in this fight. 

_Elsewhere, someone else was making the same set of countermoves..._

_Just with a different target in mind..._

So when Bart Bass walked into his boardroom Tuesday morning, he wasn’t exactly surprised to see Jack there. Nor Diana. He was however, surprised to see his son.

“Chuck?” Bart took his son aside. “What are you doing here?”

Chuck smirked. “Came to watch the show, Dad. Don’t mind me.”

Bart just considered his son carefully, but nodded and gestured for him to take the seat to his right. 

Which Chuck did. 

When the meeting finally started, it didn’t take Jack long to speak up and play his hand. 

“Esteemed board members, thank you for being here today. It’s been a few years since I’ve stood in this boardroom before summarily being ousted from my family company by my own brother. Many of you remember my Father, and how my brother did the same exact thing to him. I’ve sat back and watched as my older brother has taken the company our Father loved, and turned it into something he’d no longer recognize. While successful, Bart lacks vision. The market, even now is showing signs towards a global recession, but what is my brother doing to shore up our investments and protect our stakeholders?”

There were some rumblings around the group, and Bart could see that a few of the board members were nodding amongst themselves. 

“I have a plan, that will not only see us through the upcoming Great Recession, but will have Bass Incorporated coming out stronger and more powerful than ever before. Therefore, as of yesterday...myself and Diana Payne have purchased a five percent stake in my family’s company and are initiating a hostile takeover. But before we do so, we’ve come to ask for your support.”

Jack smirked and then sat down, his expression smug. 

“And just what is your tender offer, Jack?”

Bart glanced over at Henry Rutherford, one of his old time board members and a friend of his late Father, and he sighed inwardly. 

“The current market share is at $75. We propose a tender offer at $90.”

Some of the eyes in the room raised at that, and Bart had to smirk. 

**Greed**. 

_It worked more often times than not._

“And what do you say to this, Bart?”

Whatever Bart had been about to say, was put on hold when his son’s phone dinged. He watched Chuck glance down at it and his lips lifted, before his eyes settled back on the group. 

“Is there somewhere more important you need to be, _Nephew?”_

“No, actually—I’m afraid your hostile takeover of Bass Incorporated has hit a tiny _snag, Uncle.”_

“And that is?”

“I’ve just acquired a ten percent stake in Payne Global and have had your board served this morning with an writ of affidavit staying any further action, Diana. Your lawyer should be calling you right about... _now_.”

And sure enough, Diana’s phone rang. She glared at Chuck as she picked up the phone, her expression paling as she listened to the man speaking quickly on the other end. She hung up her phone before he was done however, and hissed, “You don’t have the capital!”

“Not all of it. My business partners however, _do_. I’m afraid you should’ve listened to what else your attorney had to say. Your stock tender is only worth $60 at present time.”

“That’s a lie!” She bit back. “Payne Global stock opened at $85 this morning.”

“Then you need to check your numbers again, Diana. _It’s in free fall_. Apparently, the word is out that the SEC will be investigating you for insider trading. They should here in approximately, three...two... _one_...”

Bart smirked at his son, as federal agents came through the door into the boardroom at that precise moment. 

“Diana Payne, Jack Bass? Federal Agents,” the man showed his badge, “you’ll need to come with us.”

Bart was openly grinning now, as he sat back and shook his head in wonder. 

“ _ **You!”**_

“No, dear Diana.” Bart snarked sarcastically, “You did this to _yourself_.”

Everyone watched as Jack started to scream, cuss and rant at his older brother, who was just watching him with a bemused smile on his chiseled face. When they were finally gone, Bart gazed around the room and sighed. 

“If I find out any of you were _helping_ my brother or Diana, trust me? You’ll wish the federal agents had taken you as well.”

By the paled faces of a couple of his board members, Bart was fairly certain he knew whom to go after. 

“Please see yourselves _out_.”

Bart and Chuck watched everyone leave, and once the door shut...Bart rounded on his son with a proud look. 

“Rona?”

“Yes, and Faith.”

“Rona’s idea?”

“And implementation. She broke into Jack’s apartment and planted a spyware program onto his computer, and then set him up to take the fall. Diana too. She’s _brilliant_ , Dad—and if you fuck this up? Trust me when I tell you that I’ll take her side, and watch happily as she forces you into bankruptcy.”

Bart threw back his head and laughed outrageously, but once he was a bit more under control, he admitted honestly, “I’m going to _marry_ her, Son. She wants a child, too. Are you really going to be alright with that?”

“I’m a grown man, Dad. I know you’ll never give away my inheritance, but if you’re seriously considering more kids, they’ll be my siblings too. I’ll never turn my back on them.”

Bart stood up and helped his son out of his chair, hugging him proudly. 

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever done in my life, Chuck. Your mother would’ve been so proud to see the man you’ve become. My only word of advice would be?”

“Yes?”

“Blair. She loves you and I know you love her. I know you believe she needs this time to find herself, but that young woman knows _who she is and what she wants._ Can you honestly tell me, that you two are stronger apart, than together?”

Chuck averted his gaze for a split second, and Bart could see his son processing.

“ _No_. She’s stronger either way, but I feel _lost_ without her.”

“Then _tell her,_ Son. Don’t let her ever believe for a single second that she’s not your _everything_.”

Chuck nodded, and clapped his Dad on the shoulder, before he turned around and walked out of the boardroom. 

Bart quickly pulled out his phone and texted Rona. 

**Where are you?**

It wasn’t even a minute later, that she texted back...

_Your bedroom. Come celebrate inside me, Rich man. I’m waiting._

His grin couldn’t have been any wider if he’d tried. 

He got to his hotel in record time, too. 

However, when he entered his suite the sight that greeted him had him halting in his tracks as the words, “ _Fucking hell,”_ fell from his lips. 

For there, kneeling on his bed was Rona...

Looking like fucking _sin_...

“Hello, Rich man.” She purred as she slapped the riding crop she was holding in her right hand in the palm of her left hand. “Get undressed, _now_!”

Bart was not a stupid man, and he could tell that this was to be his punishment for how he’d hurt Rona. She’d backed him up and saved his company, but it didn’t negate the fact that he hadn’t gone to her and shared his plan initially.

And if he’d had?

_**He might’ve saved himself weeks without her in his bed.** _

He would _never_ make that mistake again.

So he complied. And when he was naked, standing there with his little Bass eager to play, she just smirked wickedly at him.

She scooted gracefully off his bed and cocked her head almost coquettishly at him, before she sauntered around his backside and he felt the thwack of the crop on his ass. 

He hissed at the contact, but his dick twitched in anticipation, too. 

“You’ve been a very _bad_ boy, Mr. Bass. So I’m afraid before I can offer you my absolution for being a _fucking idiot,_ you will take your punishment willingly. Do you understand and agree?”

“I _do_ , Mistress.”

“Good boy.” She moved in front of him and ran her left hand down his flank. His gaze was blistering as his eyes roved over her scanty attire, which was as simple as it was delicious. Red laced push up bra, red thong, red stilettos and a red riding crop. 

She looked like the she devil coming to tempt him to hell and back. 

“Kneel and bow your head.”

He complied instantly, and felt Rona walking around him for a moment before her hand ran though his hair and then she tugged his head back hard, her face now directly above him—her amber eyes on fire. 

“Safe word?”

“ _Tart_.”

Rona’s lips lifted at that. 

“You will address me as _Mistress_ , you will not speak unless prompted to do so. You won’t come without permission and you won’t make direct eye contact...do you understand and agree to these rules, Mr. Bass?”

“I do, Mistress.”

Rona licked her lips and then said sultrily, “Good, then let’s _begin.”_


	79. Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Rona makes plans for her future, Faith discovers that she has to come to terms with a few things as well.

It was well after dinner time and Bart was completely knackered. Of all the things he’d experienced in his life, and in all the ways he’d controlled his universe and everything in it? 

This was the one thing...

The _only_ thing...

He’d ever been willing to give in and let go...

His little hellion was a menace. It was almost like she’d known how to torture him into a writhing, shaking, begging mess. 

The fact that he’d _begged_...

Still blew his little patriarchal mind to shreds. 

If his Father could’ve seen him? 

Bart was fairly certain the man would’ve died from a heart attack all over again. 

He’d come so hard at the end from being denied for so long?

He’d literally passed out when Rona finally did let him come undone. 

That was definitely a first, but something told him it wouldn’t be the last time she did something like this to him again. 

She wasn’t lying either, when she’d indicated her imagination was vivid. 

It was _staggering_...

She’d blindfolded him, tied him up, and used all manner of sexual paraphernalia to achieve her ends. 

_And he’d loved every minute of it..._

Almost as much as he loved, her.

When he’d regained consciousness, his beautiful girl had been busily rubbing his body down with some kind of warm liquid, and he’d allowed the simple, sweet gestures as he basked in her attentions. 

Her touch had been firm, but careful and loving. It had filled his heart to bursting and he’d so wanted to tell her where his mind and heart was at...but the words wouldn’t come. 

Because she still hadn’t given him permission to speak, and he’d figured knowing her as he _did_?

She was testing him even still.

He hadn’t even made direct eye contact yet. 

“Are you okay?” She asked softly and he nodded. 

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Bart...I think we need to talk, **yes**?”

He sighed in agreement as he watched Rona lift herself up and felt her cup his chin so his gaze was now level with her own. 

“I’m not your Mistress right now, Rich man. This is just _me_ , Rona and you...Bart. Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Are you _okay_?”

“I’m perfect, Little girl. You’re _perfect_.”

“Really? It wasn’t too much?”

“No, definitely not. It was **_amazing_**.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

He cupped her cheek tenderly, his eyes watching her closely. “I’m in awe of you, my perfect girl. Even after everything, you had my back. You are formidable, beautiful and everything I’ve ever wanted for my life. I love you, Rona.”

Bart watched as Rona’s eyes filled with reluctant tears, her expression parts shocked and parts unsure.

“Bart?”

 _“I love you._ I will always love you. It took over twenty years and _you_ , to bring me back to life. I’ve been a shell of myself for so long, that it didn’t even register with me until this weekend that if the rest of the world burned away, it wouldn’t matter as long as I had you next to me. I’m sorry that I didn’t allow you in soon enough, Rona. I promise, I won’t make that mistake again.”

He thumbed the few escaped tears that had fallen onto Rona’s cheeks as she hiccoughed out a broken sob. 

“I didn’t think you’d ever say those words to me.”

He smiled softly. “Why?”

“Because I _know_ you. And I knew that even if you’d felt it, you’d likely never allow yourself to say it.”

“Well, turns out, my sweet girl—that you were _wrong_.”

She choked out a laugh, and nodded happily. “I know! And I’m thrilled!”

“Me too.”

“I love you too, Rich man. You have to know that there is _nothing_ in this world more important to me than you are.”

“I know it.” He whispered with reverence. “And that makes me the luckiest man alive.”

He pulled her down and kissed her deeply, feeling his body hum at her eager response. When she pulled back slightly, Bart took in Rona’s beautiful face...her expressive eyes and declared himself...

“Marry me, Rona Steward. Be my wife? Bear my children, love me and grow old with me?”

Her face fell into a stupor for a split second before her expression brightened into one that Bart was sure, he’d remember until his dying day. 

“Of course I’m going to marry you!” She straddled him gingerly, and took his head into her hands, “You’re _never_ getting rid of me, Rich man. I’m never letting you go.” 

Her mouth covered his and it was a while before they came up for air. 

Then he was making sweet love to her, and their eyes never left each other. Not when he rolled her over, nor when he entered her tight heat...

Not when their bodies moved in perfect sync...

Nor when they kissed over and over again...

Not when they breathed each other in...

And not when their bodies came together in a blissful culmination of their mutual desire and love.

And as they lay there contentedly in the afters, Bart asked seriously, “Big wedding?”

“No.”

He nodded, relieved. 

She then lifted her body up and cocked a knowing eyebrow at him. 

“Prenup?”

“No.”

She nodded, her expression open and pleased before she said seriously, “We need to have _something_. If only for Chuck’s sake?”

Bart grumbled, but mimicked her gesture. “You’re right. I did ask your Father to list any children we have together as his heirs.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And he agreed?”

“He did.”

“Payne Global?”

“What about it?”

“Well, Faith kinda bought it.”

Bart sat up and stared at Rona, who just quirked a smug eyebrow at him. 

“She bought Diana’s company?”

“Yep. Said something about making sure she stays on top.”

Bart snickered and then heaved out a snorted guffaw, causing Rona to roll her eyes in sudden comprehension.

“Are she and Bruce going to turn this into some fucked up competition?”

“Yes, I really think they will.”

“Chuck owns a five percent stake, and I do too. Faith bought out the largest share at 30 percent. She’s leaving it to me to decide how I want to play it.”

“And _how_ do you want to play it, little girl?”

“Well, I have a few ideas.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

She winked playfully. 

“Elope?”

Bart just stared at her, and then his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t need a fancy wedding. All I need is...”

“A ring on your finger, a large bed and me inside of you?”

“I always _knew_ you were rather intelligent, Rich man.”

Bart chuckled, before he said deeply, “Be careful what you wish for, little girl.”

“I’m completely serious.”

“And how is Faith or Violet going to take it if I abscond with you and we elope?”

Rona grabbed her phone and sent off a quick text...

_Are you okay if I run off and get married, Mom?_

It wasn’t even a minute later that Rona’s phone rang. 

Clicking on the send, button...Rona put it on speaker phone. 

“I’m _sorry_ , kiddo. You maybe want to **_repeat_** that?”

“Bart proposed. I want to elope. You going to be all pissy, if we do it?”

There was a heavy sigh on the other end, and then Faith said simply, “Vi?”

“She’d be okay with it.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“And this is what you want?”

“Yes, it is. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

The silence on the other end was deafening for about twenty seconds and when Faith spoke up again, her question was directed at Bart. 

“And you, Bass?”

“I want whatever Rona wants.”

“Fuck! That was the _right_ answer.”

“I’d figured it would be, Faith. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s the truth.”

“If you _hurt_ her...”

“I won’t. You have my solemn word. _I love her.”_

“When?” Faith bit out. 

“Tomorrow.” Bart replied with a shit eating grin. “It’ll take me a day to get the paperwork with my attorney into place so Chuck’s inheritance is secured.”

“Where?”

Rona glanced at Bart and she shrugged. 

“I’m sure I can figure something out.”

“Whatever. Take pictures at least.”

“Will do, Mom.”

“Fuck you, kiddo. Make sure you tell your sister, before you run off.” Faith sniffled, and both Bart and Rona could hear Bruce in the background whispering something to his wife. 

Then his voice came over the phone. 

“I take it you both are eloping?” Bruce asked. 

“Yes.” Rona responded. “Is Faith, okay?”

“Hormones.”

“ _Right_.”

Bruce chuckled. “You did good today, Rona.”

“Thanks, Bruce.”

“Oh, and Bass?”

“Wayne?”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Will we still be seeing you in Russia?”

Bart glanced over at Rona and he sighed. “No, as much as I’d like to be there? I think I’ll let my Son represent me for now. I do believe I have more important things to take care of at the present time.”

“Good man.” Bruce said sincerely, before he too, said his goodbyes. 

Bruce went to find his wife, who was sitting in his office, staring out the window with Baba and Yaga curled up on either side of her. 

As he came around the couch, he smiled softly as she hastily wiped at her eyes. 

He snapped his fingers and both dogs moved off the couch, and laid down at their feet as Bruce took his spot next to Faith, and sighed as she buried her head into his chest. 

“She’s getting _married_. When the fuck did she get old enough to get fucking married!”

Bruce chuckled softly. “Gorgeous, you sound just like a mother would.”

“ **And?”**

“Just pointing out the obvious. Those two girls call you _mom_ because you are their mom in every way that matters to them. Rona was seeking out your permission. _Yours_. Not Robert’s. She looks up to you, as does Violet. They _need_ you just like you need them. Are you sure you’re okay with her running off and eloping?”

“Not really, but I won’t stop her either. I know Rona, and she’s never asked for anything for herself. If this is what she wants, I’ll support it. I might not be happy about not seeing her getting married, but at least I know she’ll be happy and taken care of.”

“And Violet?”

“I think I might have her go to LA and work with Angel for a while. He can take her patrolling and work with her skills a bit more. As much as I love Violet, she needs some additional training that I can’t give to her right now. Angel and Spike will be good for her.”

And when Damian comes?”

“Then she’ll come home.”

Bruce nodded. “Zac is in LA.”

“I know, and they’ve been talking and texting. I get the feeling they’re both a little gun shy because of what’s happened to them, but they also can relate to each other in a way no one else can. It’ll be interesting to see what comes of it, if anything.”

“What does your gut tell you?”

Faith shrugged. “Buffy seems to think they’ll end up together, but my feelings are more muddled on the subject. I tend to think it’s because I’m more protective of Violet, and therefore not as open to her growing up too fast. Being a slayer, it _forces_ you to do just that, Bruce. Too fast, too soon. Your youth is taken with fighting monsters and facing evil everyday. Sometimes, you forget how to be a be a kid, or sometimes? You throw yourself into youthful rebellion without a safety net.”

“And you don’t want them to suffer your fate?”

“No, I don’t want them to ever feel like they’re _alone_ , with no one to break their fall if the darkness takes hold. I never had that, until Angel saved me.”

The last word was said on a broken sob, and Bruce felt his wife shiver before her body broke down in a fresh torrent of tears. 

“Shhh, Gorgeous. _They’ll be okay._ They have you and that makes them the luckiest people. I’m sorry you didn’t have that safety net growing up, and I wish more than anything that I could’ve given that to you.”

“You **have**.” She choked out brokenly. 

Bruce just held her, and opened his mind to his wife, letting her hear and feel him sure and steady for her. Baba and Yaga had their heads down on the floor, but their eyes were locked onto Faith, and Bruce could almost sense their worry.

When she finally calmed sufficiently, Bruce offered up, “Bart is going to have Chuck come to Russia in his stead.”

Faith nodded into his shoulder, and sniffled some more. Bruce then heard a noise behind him and noticed Alfred walking quietly into the room, his expression filled with concern as he handed his charge a box of tissues. 

“Thanks, Alfred.”

“Of course, Master Wayne. Dinner is ready, if you’re hungry?”

Faith’s head perked up at that. “What’s on the menu?”

“Potato and Leek soup, with fresh rolls and a Caesar salad.”

She sighed in pleasure. “You’re the absolute _best_ , Alfred.”

“I’m glad you think so, Miss Faith.”


	80. Queen B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blair and Chuck finally figure it out.

Midterms were coming up, and Blair had been busy burning the midnight oil trying to finish up her paper for her English class. She was also taking Psychology and History of Design. She was really enjoying her classes, and so far was at the top of two out of her three courses. 

School was a good distraction, and it kept her mind sharp and focused—which was _desperately_ needed. When she’d been handling Faith’s wedding preparations, it had kept her so occupied, that there simply hadn’t been a thought spared for anything superfluous. 

Including a one, Chuck Bass. 

Faith’s reception had been wonderful, and she’d enjoyed getting to know many of those who’d attended. 

Prince William, had been nice and engaging...

_And so not her type._

She’d watched Chuck throughout the night, and had hoped he would come over and at least, ask her to dance...

...but that hadn’t happened. 

Serena had given her a pat on the hand, and a sympathetic smile of commiseration, but it hadn’t stopped her heart from hurting at all. 

She’d spent four years... _four_...in love with Chuck Bass. She’d watched him as he took command of everything and everyone in their circle, and had ruled their school with a smirk and his sexy arrogant drawl. 

He’d kissed her for the first time at their Junior Spring Fling, and it was then that Blair Waldorf _knew_...

_**That she’d marry Chuck Bass someday.** _

Junior and Senior years, they’d ruled as King and Queen B, and everyone who was anyone, _deferred_ to them. Chuck was always there to open doors and listen to her vent, he’d supported her plots and dreams, helped with her plans and take downs with a singular focus—and never once did she have to wonder if he was only there with her because she was a Waldorf. 

No, Blair knew he was there at her side because he loved her as much as she loved him. 

And then two months before graduation, something shifted. 

He was no longer there for her. 

Physically, yes—but emotionally? Not so much. 

Chuck had started to distance himself. At first it was just the small things. He’d forget to call her to wish her sweet dreams—and then it was bigger things—like not sharing in his plans for after graduation. 

When he’d taken off with Nate and Dan for two weeks to Ibiza, Blair had been hurt...

Then _pissed_...

She would’ve never begrudged Chuck his _guy_ time, but when she’d seen him on Page Six, papped in a random bar with some tart hanging off his arm?

She’d gone _nuclear_. 

And then decided to end it.

He’d come home and tried to act nonchalant, like it was no big deal. Blair had been saving herself for Chuck and as far as she knew, he hadn’t been with anyone else either, but still? 

He’d made a fool of her. 

And if there was one thing you _didn’t do?_

Was to make a fool out of Blair Waldorf.

A knock on her bedroom door, alerted her out of her melancholy. 

“Come in.”

Cyrus peeked his head around the door and said softly, “You have a guest waiting downstairs.”

“Who is it, Cy? I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“It’s Chuck Bass.”

Blair blanched. But after a second she nodded and shut off her computer, making her way down into the sitting room. When she walked inside, Chuck was there—talking to her Mom. 

“There you are, darling.” Eleanor piped up. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

“Thank you, Eleanor.”

“Of course, dear.”

Blair watched her mom leave, closing the door behind her. Her expressive brown eyes turned to blue-grey ones, that were watching her like a hawk. 

“Chuck.”

“Hello, love.”

Blair shook her head and walked over to the window. “ _Don’t_ call me that, Chuck.”

She felt him moving behind her, but he didn’t touch her...even though she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and it caused her to shiver involuntarily.

Chuck smirked at the reaction, then sighed softly. 

“I’m sorry.”

Whipping around, Blair stared up at her former boyfriend wide-eyed and shocked. 

“ _Excuse me?”_

“Blair, I’m sorry.”

She put her hands up to his face feeling for signs of fever, delirium—and this caused Chuck to actually _smile_. 

Which caused Blair to hiss out in horror, as she pulled him over to the couch and kept checking him for signs of illness. 

“Love, I’m _fine_. I’m not sick, delusional, nor been invaded by random body snatchers...”

“Are you _sure_?” She started feeling around his skull, and this caused Chuck to actually snort out a guffaw of laughter. 

“Blair, I didn’t hit my head either.”

She sat back, her pretty face now scowling warily at him. 

“Did you lose a bet?”

Chuck just shook his head. “Will you just stop it,” he pleaded, “and listen to me for ten minutes. If you don’t like what I have to say, you can kick me out, agreed?”

Folding her arms protectively over her chest, Blair nodded sharply and waited...

“Today, my Uncle showed up at Bass Incorporated’s board meeting. He tried to attempt a hostile takeover of the company.”

“Oh?” Blair frowned. “What happened?”

“He was working with Diana Payne, my Dad’s old girlfriend from Stanford. Apparently, she and my Uncle were in cahoots to try and undermine my Father’s position with the board. My Dad, had a very helpful ally, and with my help and Faith’s...we took over Payne Global.”

Blair smirked proudly. “You went corporate raiding with Faith?”

“And Rona Steward.”

Blair sat up in confusion. “I thought her last name was Jones?”

“Nope. She’s Robert Steward’s daughter and Heir. _His only heir._ She’s also in love with my Dad, and surprisingly, he’s in love with her too. I don’t know all the particulars quite yet, but I’ve never seen him like this, love. She’s _really_ good for him.”

Nodding slowly, Blair asked pointedly, “What does this have to do with _us_?”

“My Dad, after the board meeting, asked me a very serious question. He asked me if we... _you and I_...are stronger together or apart. I told him that you’re strong enough regardless, love...but the truth is? I’m _lost_ without you. I never wanted to hold you back from being the woman I knew you could be, and I never wanted anyone to think of you as nothing more than an appendage to me. _You’re glorious, Blair._ You always have been. I just wanted the world to see you as I see you, and I was worried that you’d end up resenting me if you’d thought I was holding you back from taking the world by storm.”

“Chuck! You’re so stubborn and pig-headed! Do you honestly think that I would _ever_ allow anyone to dismiss me as nothing more than a side piece to you. _**I’m Blair Waldorf!**_ If anyone ever thought that of me, much less said it to my face? I’d destroy them with a perfectly contended smile and call it good.”

“I do know that.”

“Then _why_? Why did you allow yourself to be photographed with some floozy on your arm, Chuck? **You humiliated me!”**

Chuck whipped his head back as if she’d slapped him, and when he saw actual tears threatening to escape her eyes, he fell to his knees and took Blair’s hands within his own—kissing them both tenderly. 

“I’m an idiot, love. I just wanted you to have everything you deserve.”

“And all I’ve ever wanted, you absolute moron, was _you_!”

“Forgive me?”

“Give me one good reason why I should, Chuck Bass?”

“Because I love you, and someday, I’m going to marry you. We’re going to rule this city together, and I’m going to give you everything you deserve because I’ve always known, Blair Waldorf—since we were fifteen? Watching you take down Georgina with a singular stroke? That you were it for me. I’m _so sorry_ , if I’ve ever made you think any differently in my utter devotion to you.”

She bit her lip hard, trying desperately to stop the tirade of tears that were threatening to fall. 

She would not show weakness...

_She would not!_

“You want my forgiveness?”

“I do.”

“You want an equal, a partner?”

“I do.” He smirked. 

“Then I suggest you get _clever_ , Chuck Bass. You humiliated me— _publicly_. So, if you want me back? You need to undo that damage in a such a way that shows to everyone, just how much you value me by your side. Nothing less than that, will have me firmly ensconced back on your arm. Got it?

“I understand.”

“Good. Now I have to finish my paper for school. You can show yourself out.”

“Fair enough.”

Chuck took her hand one more time, kissed the back of it and then strode purposefully out of the room. She heard him saying goodbye to her Mother, and it wasn’t but a few moments later that Eleanor walked back into the room. 

“Sweetheart, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

Sitting down next to her daughter, Eleanor took her hand and patted it lovingly. “He **loves** you, Blair. He asked both Cyrus and myself if he might formally court you. He’s also transferred the dowry money this afternoon into an account as a gesture of good faith.”

“He _did_?”

“Yes. It’ll be all over the papers tomorrow, sweetheart. He made it _public_. One billion dollars for your hand.”

Blair’s eyes widened before she rushed out of the room, running towards the front door and when she opened it, there was Chuck with a single red rose, down on one knee. 

He then opened a small box which housed a ten carat perfect Asher cut, flawless pink diamond engagement ring and said deeply, “Big enough gesture, my love?”

Blair laughed out loud in wonder, and then held out her left hand with a firm wiggle. 

“Put that ring on my finger, Bass.”

“ _Happily_.”

Once it was on, she kissed him for all she was worth, and sighed in victory, as he returned the gesture without reservation. 


	81. Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is given a special gift for his Birthday.

It was all over the New York Times the next day. On the top of the front page, the news of Jack Bass and Diana Payne’s arrest for insider trading. Below the bottom fold, the acquisition and take over of Payne Global by an anonymous group of investors. And there splashed on both page Six and in the financial section?

**One Billion Dollar Dowry**

**By: Melissa George**

**  
Hello lovely readers,**

**It has been an interesting 24 hours, for the first families of the Upper East Side, as Chuck Bass, Heir of Bass Incorporated—in the space of a single day? Fended off a hostile corporate takeover of his family’s business by his Uncle, and offered a one billion dollar dowry for the hand of his lady love, Blair Cornelia Waldorf, Daughter of Eleanor Waldorf Rose and the late Alastair Waldorf—Heir to the Waldorf legacy.**

**The esteemed Waldorf Patriarch, Alastair Grimaldi Waldorf Sr. before his passing, had set in place a dowry requirement for both his granddaughters, of one billion dollars each. An unheard of amount by any standards, it would seem not to be a deterrent for Chuck Bartrand Bass. Word on the Upper East side is that Mr. Bass, has paid the dowry and has officially proposed to Miss Waldorf. When contacted for comment; Eleanor Waldorf was quoted as “Being thrilled” for the union.**

**Both Mr. Bass and Miss Waldorf are students matriculating at University here in New York. Word has also reached this reporters ears, that Bart Bass—CEO of Bass Incorporated and one of New York’s most eligible bachelor’s, may be officially off the market as well. A marriage license was filed with the City Clerks office first thing this morning. Rumor has it that the forty-five year old Bass Patriarch, will be eloping with his lady love, twenty-three year old Rona Steward, daughter of Chicago tycoon, Robert Steward—she his only child and sole Heiress to the Steward fortune.**

**There is no word on whether or not there will be a prenuptial agreement in place.**

**Miss Steward was recently, one of the bridesmaid attendants of Her Grace, The Grand Duchess Nickolayevna’s wedding to Gothamite Billionaire, Bruce Wayne. It has also reached this reporter’s ear, that the Wayne’s are expecting their first child in a little over six months.**

**Ah, Love is in the air, readers! We here at the Times, send out our heartfelt congratulations to one and all, and wish them the very best.**

  
Faith set the paper down with a smug smirk plastered all over her pretty face. 

“He did _good_.” She quipped at her husband, and he nodded in agreement. 

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Chuck?”

Bruce nodded. 

“I do, as much as that surprises me to admit. I trust Blair’s judgement, and she agreed to his proposal, after she’d found out about the public gesture. Something tells me Chuck did this for a very specific reason.”

“I agree.” Bruce hummed. “I’m just wondering how that reporter found out about our baby?”

Faith bit her lip and Bruce’s gaze narrowed, before he smirked knowingly. 

“ _Really_?”

“ _What_?” Faith bit out, “We’d decided to make the announcement before we left for Russia, right? This way? It looks like a happy accident. Buried in at the end of all the other juicy gossip. No one could ever accuse us of trying to cause a stir before we leave for our trip. It looks almost...”

“Innocent?”

“That works too.”

Bruce whistled in appreciation. “Was this your idea, or Blair’s?”

“Mine, actually. But I did run it by Blair, when she texted me last night to tell me her good news. So? She might’ve let it slip to her sources about our pregnancy. No harm, no foul.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Eh, I do alright.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you too.”

“Have you heard from Rona this morning?”

“She texted me about an hour ago, right before she and Bart got on his family jet. They got married first thing this morning, after they’d secured the marriage license. Apparently Chuck and Robert, who’d flown in late last night and almost didn’t make the ceremony, were the witnesses.”

“That’s good that Robert was able to be there. Where are they off to?”

“Apparently, it’s a surprise—according to Rona.”

Bruce chuckled and shook his head in amusement, causing his wife to give him a funny look. 

“What?”

“Huh?” Hazel eyes lifted, and Faith could see that Bruce was messing with her. 

Now _why_ would he be prevaricating. 

She could feel several emotions in play...

There was of course amusement, but there was smugness, exasperation and a tinge of envy. 

“Really?” Faith scoffed in disgust. “Bass owns his own private island?”

Bruce, who had been taking a sip of his coffee, sputtered out in shock even as he shook his head in wonder. 

“How the _fuck_ am I ever going to get used to you doing that, Gorgeous?”

“Where?”

“Bahamas.”

“How long has he had it?”

Bruce considered that question and then shrugged. “Maybe 10 years? I know he bought it after the divorce from _The Tart,_ but that’s about all I know.”

“Huh, and you’re actually a bit jealous of that fact, aren’t you?”

“Sensed that, did you?”

“Yep.”

Bruce nodded. “Well, sue me.”

Faith smirked and then went over and pulled something out of a drawer. She came over and plopped down in her husband’s lap and kissed him gently, an affection he returned wholeheartedly.

“Happy Birthday, Krasivyy.”

Bruce’s expression brightened as she handed him an envelope. 

“You remembered?”

“Of course I did, you dork!” She scoffed softly. “Open it.”

Bruce nodded eagerly, and tore open the Manila envelope, pulling out a small bundle of papers that had his name on them. He pursued through them for several moments, and Faith could feel his shock and wonder...

...when his eyes finally met hers, she could see the clear love and devotion as much as she could feel it. 

“You _bought_ me an island for my birthday?”

“Sue me.” She deadpanned. “You really seemed to like the idea, and it didn’t take much. Funny how that works when you’re filthy rich, isn’t it?”

“But how?”

“Well? Rona, was quite thorough when she investigated Payne Global and all their assets. Turns out? The woman owned her own private island in the Maldives, and it has its own airstrip and state of the art resort attached to it. It’s about 140 acres, and eco friendly too.”

Bruce chuckled and then threw his head back and laughed. 

“What am I going to _do_ with you?”

“ _Whatever you want, Krasivyy._ ” She winked playfully, before she cupped his head and kissed him for a few moments. Once she pulled back, she smiled sweetly, “This is for _us_. Our own private escape. I took the liberty to have our yacht moved there. I also hired our honeymoon security team full time and they will be making sure the island is secure, and dealing with the local government issues. It’ll take about a month for it to get all settled. I was thinking we could go before Damian comes. Check it out, spend some time just us. What do you think?”

“I think, Gorgeous—that’s sounds absolutely perfect and I love you so much. You take my breath away every damn day.”

“Love you, more.” Faith ran her hand down Bruce’s face in a possessive caress. “Happy Birthday.”

“Best one of my life.”

She glanced away and then sighed. Standing up, Bruce watched Faith walk over to the window, and his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Gorgeous?” He moved over behind her. “What is it?” He whispered into her ear. 

Turning around, her deep brown eyes were filled with so many emotions, that Bruce would’ve been unsure, expect he could feel her sudden uncertainty and...

... _fear_?

“Faith?”

She cupped his cheeks and said shakily. “I had a dream last night.”

Bruce blanched, swallowed and then nodded. “Okay? About?”

“Slayers see portents of the future as you know, but sometimes, it’s not always that simple. As I’ve opened up my heart and mind to you, it seems that the dreams are coming with a bit more frequency.”

“And what did you dream about?”

“I saw your parents, Bruce.”

Faith wasn’t quite prepared for the reaction she got, as Bruce stumbled backwards and right into the side table, knocking a vase off of it. Luckily her quick reflexes saved it from crashing to the floor. When she’d gazed up, he was staring at her unseeingly. 

“There’s more.” She whispered out hesitantly.

“What _more_ could there be?” He bit out. 

“Bruce...”

“You _spoke_ with my parents?”

“I did.”

“And what?” He shook his head, and Faith wasn’t exactly surprised that the emotions coming across their bond were primarily hurt and jealousy. 

He was quite shocked too.

He went to open his mouth, but she put her hand up to halt him. 

“Whistler?” Her voice echoed through their home, and soon...

A man was standing there...

...wearing a leather jacket, jeans and a strange looking hat. 

He almost looked like an overgrown leprechaun.

“Slayer...”

“Bruce? This is Whistler. He’s an emissary from the Powers that Be.”

His head flitted between his wife to the man, now standing in their living room—and Bruce simply didn’t know what was going on. 

“I don’t understand.” He finally got out. 

“Do you trust me?”

Turning to Faith, Bruce could feel her worry and hesitation, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the one person he could always rely on was his wife. 

“Of course, Gorgeous.”

“Then I need you to trust me when I tell you that Whistler is going to take you somewhere. Just for a little bit, okay?”

Swallowing heavily, Bruce replied, “For how long?”

“Not long.” Whistler replied. “Just long enough.”

Whistler held out his hand, and after a split second of indecision, Bruce took his hand and felt his body give way. 

Almost as if he’d lost consciousness, but _not_...

As his vision cleared, he found himself gaping up at his childhood home, except it was _exactly_ as it had been when he was a boy. His mother’s rose garden, that had burnt in the fire, was now sitting prominently to his left. He did a full 360 degree turn, and noticed his Father’s car in the driveway and Alfred’s hummingbird feeders lining the tree line off to the left. 

He turned around and then saw that the front door was now open...

...so taking a deep breath?

He walked inside.

The first thing that assaulted his senses was the scents of lavender and vanilla. His mother’s favored candles that she had throughout the Manor. He walked through the foyer and turned to the left, to where his parents set of rooms were located. As he got closer, he could hear muted voices...

...but he couldn’t quite make them out. 

It wasn’t until he was right at their door, that he heard his Mother’s sweet laughter and his Father’s responding baritone of deep humor, as they sounded like they were enjoying a happy moment. 

The door was slightly ajar, but years of manners ingrained into him by both his parents and Alfred...

...caused him to knock quietly. 

“Come in, _Son_.”

Bruce bit his lip and took several deep breaths, before he opened the door and saw his parents smiling widely at him. The next thing he noted, was that the room looked exactly as it had when he was a boy. Same rich warm colors, the same feelings of contentment, safety and home...

And it was taking every bit of his League training not to break down into a blithering, babbling, balling mess. 

“Aren’t you going to _come in_?” His Mother asked, in her melodious voice. 

“Sorry, Mom.”

“It’s fine, Dear. I’m sure this must seem a bit surreal, yes?”

Bruce nodded, as he made his way over to where his Mom and Dad were sitting on their favorite couch, by the large windows. It was then he noticed his Mom was holding something in her arms. When he got close enough, hazel eyes widened in surprise as the tender face of an infant peeked out of the swaddle of soft cashmere layette. 

He didn’t know how he’d managed to sit down properly in the adjacent chair, without falling over—because right now his entire body felt like jello. 

His Mom smiled at him knowingly, and then her gaze drifted back the to gurgling sounds of the small infant within her arms. 

“He’s absolutely perfect, Dear.”

“ _What_?”

Thomas Wayne chuckled heartily. “Son? You seem a bit _confused_?”

“I am, frankly. _How_ am I here?”

“The Powers that Be have watched you, Bruce. They’ve seen your courage and how you’ve chosen to Champion the weak of Gotham. It wasn’t a coincidence your lovely wife came to you when she did. You both are destined to be, just like your Mother and myself. It’s also not a coincidence that you have this connection with your wife, Son. The potential has always been there, it just needed the right catalyst.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t?” Martha’s blue eyes settled on her only child with a loving look. “Bruce, when Buffy and Faith activated the line of Potentials, it didn’t just activate the existing, living line...it activated the Potential of all those who’d come before.”

Bruce gazed at his mom, and it only took him a moment to understand what she was saying. 

“You? _Really_?” 

His handsome face, so like his Dad’s, broke out into a wide, pleased smile and his Mom laughed and nodded. Thomas Wayne was watching his wife like she hung the moon, and Bruce couldn’t help but remember how his Dad had always looked at his Mom like that everyday they’d been alive. 

It was the exact same way he looked at Faith...

“Not so hard to believe, is it?”

“Not really.” Bruce admitted. “You always were a force of nature, Mom.”

“That she was, Son. Still is.” Thomas winked at his wife, and she nudged his arm and said with amusement, “ _Hush you_ , you’ll wake your grandson.”

A cooing sound caught Bruce’s attention, and then he noticed his Father reaching for the flailing hand of the infant child, and once the small fingers latched onto his Dad’s index finger, Thomas smiled brightly. 

“He’s a _beautiful_ boy, Bruce. You and Faith must be over the moon.”

It was then that the first crack of his armor fell, as a lone tear threatened to fall. 

“I didn’t handle it well at all, Dad.” Bruce voice radiated pain and shame. “When Faith first told me, I reacted without thinking, and I hurt her terribly.”

“Why?”

“I was scared. I was fighting what I was feeling for her, I think. I knew enough to know I was falling in love with her, but I was afraid about what that meant for me as Batman. That it would make me vulnerable and weak.”

“And did it?”

“No, just the opposite. I’ve never felt stronger in my life.”

“And are you ready to be a Father, Bruce?”

Hazel eyes glistened with overwhelming emotion as that first tear fell down his cheek, and Bruce nodded emphatically. “ _So ready. I desperately want to hold him and see Faith doing the same. I can’t wait to meet him_.”

“And you will.” Thomas promised. “He will be a force to be reckoned with, Son. He will have gifts from the Powers that will allow him to see and feel so much of what others miss. People will be drawn to his goodness and kindness, but also to his resolve and charisma. He will be beyond intelligent, yet humble and gracious. You will raise him to be a warrior, Son—but with the temperament to channel those impulses for the greater good.”

“I just want to be as good of a Father to Damian, as you were to me, Dad.”

“And you will be all that and then some, Bruce. You’ll have your entire lives, both you and Faith, to raise your children and see them have their own children. The Wayne Legacy will live on through you. The Romanov Legacy will live on through your wife. Together, you both will build a Legacy of Justice, that will follow you both in this life and beyond into the next one. It’s what you were destined for, Bruce. Why do we fall?”

“So we can pick ourselves up again...”

“And be stronger, and more resilient than before.” Thomas finished. “We are so _proud_ of you, Son. Of the man you’ve become. Let go of your guilt, Bruce. The choice that was made that night so long ago, was the choice that needed to happen to turn you into the man that could not only brave the darkness, but who could fight in the light. Use your power for good, Son.”

“I will, I promise.” Bruce bowed his head in supplication. “I’ve missed you both _so much.”_

“And we’ve _missed_ you, too—dear.” His Mother replied softly. “But we’re always with you, Bruce. Love never dies. It just transforms into something infinitely better. You have that with Faith, and will expound upon that with your own children. Damian, Michael and Zarina will bring you as much joy as you’ve brought to your Father and I.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Perhaps, in time. The gifts your wife possesses and the bond you two share will only grow stronger, Son.” Thomas clarified. “Your potential is only mitigated by you.”

“I understand.” Bruce replied humbly, “I’m grateful to have been given this time with you both.”

“We are as well.” Thomas gazed at his son with all the love in his heart. “We love you, Son.”

“I love you both, too.”

“Then that’s all that matters, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Give our love to your beautiful wife from us. You’ve chosen well, Son.”

“I know.” Bruce smiled proudly. “She is the _best_ thing in my life.”

“Then make sure she knows it, everyday.” His mother admonished with a wink. 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The grandfather clock in the hallway started chiming and Thomas sighed. “It’s time for us to go.”

“I understand.”

“Be happy, Son.”

“I will, Dad. Mom. You too.”

“You are our pride and joy, Bruce. You always have been, and you always will be.”

Bruce watched as his parents faded from existence and back into eternal rest. He stood up and watched, as the room transformed around him, and his eyes widened as he heard the sounds of laughter coming from somewhere in the Manor. 

He rushed back through the doorway of the Regency Room, and down the long hallway, listening as the sounds got closer. When he finally turned towards the back of the Manor, to where the new indoor swimming area was to be located, he stopped in his tracks with a huge grin on his face...

For standing there in the shallow end of the pool, was Faith...and she was splashing and laughing with their children as they were all talking at once. 

In Russian. 

He listened in on the moment, and felt his heart bursting with so much love and wonder...

And for the very first time in his entire existence, his soul felt _whole and healed._..

Then Faith turned and _beamed_ at him. 

And his answering smile was filled with love and light...

For that split second, before the vision melted back into the abstract, Bruce couldn’t wait for the future...

But he knew that his present was waiting for him back in Gotham, and he desperately needed to hold his wife in his arms and remind her how much he loved her. 

How much he would _always love her._

“Are we good?”

Bruce turned and noticed the man from before and nodded. 

“Perfect, thank you.”

“Thank your wife.”

“I _will_.”

When he found himself back in their Penthouse, Faith’s large brown eyes were watching him closely—and he moved like quicksilver, lifting her into his arms and taking the stairs two at a time until they were back in their bedroom. 

“Bruce?”

“I love you, Gorgeous. So much. You know that you’re my _everything_ , right?”

“Yes. I know it.”

“Then let me show you?”

“I could do that.”

It was a couple days before they emerged from their bedroom, and Alfred had spent that time fending off phone calls. 

Apparently their initial honeymoon wasn’t over _quite_ yet... 


	82. Orgasmic Cherry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart learns more about Rona’s past, on their Honeymoon.

The small little house on the top of the island was completely simple and wonderful. It had two rooms, a single bathroom and a small kitchenette with a table for two. There was a fridge, small two burner stove and a sink. No dishwasher, minimal dishes, and a small pantry. Outside the sitting area was a covered patio with a fire pit and two large loungers. An old fashioned cooler with ice inside of it housed beer, white wine and sparkling water. Down the winding road towards the beach, there was another guest house that could double as a place for security, or storage. At the end of the road was a private dock, that was currently sporting a sleek small yacht, as well as two jet skis, and a fishing boat. 

The private beach encompassed the northern side of the island, and on the south side were fruit trees and a small garden.

It was clear that this place was meant to be a sanctuary away from the rest of the world. 

But for right _now_?”

It was the perfect place for a honeymoon. 

Night had fallen hours ago, but the stars were finally starting to come out and play. As Rona gazed into the heavens, she felt the strong arms of her husband pulling her back into his warm embrace. 

“Hey, little girl. I woke up and found you gone.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Why?”

“The truth?”

“Always, you know that.”

“I was almost afraid if I went to sleep, when I woke up I would discover that this day had been a beautiful dream and nothing more.” Bart nipped at her neck and she finished softly, “Sounds ridiculous, I know.”

“It’s _not_.” 

She turned around in her husband’s embrace and grinned up at him. “No?”

“Nope. When I woke up, for a split second—I reached out for you and you weren’t there—and I thought I’d imagined it all. But then I saw your dress on the chair by the bed, and I knew I’d hadn’t.”

“We’re quite the pair.”

“Yes we are.”

He scooped her into his arms and settled them both on the nearest lounger, reaching for a soft wool blanket to cover them up. 

“This place is idyllic. How long have you had it?”

“I bought it right after my divorce from _the tart._ I wanted a place I could go to escape from time to time. I can surf, and swim and just relax. When Chuck was younger, we’d come twice a year: Christmas and Easter holidays. As he got older, he wasn’t as interested in this place, and found other things to occupy his time. When he’d spend a few weeks every summer with his friends off doing whatever it was that young boys liked to do? I’d come here by myself, and just recharge.”

“So you’ve never brought a woman here?”

“No. Never seemed right. I think I was waiting for you.”

Rona rolled on top of her husband and straddled him, gazing down into stormy grey eyes that were so beautiful. 

“Good answer.”

“I thought so.”

“How long are we going to stay?”

“As long as you want to. I have no immediate plans to go back, so it’s really up to you.”

“Faith is taking Violet to LA, on her way to Russia. She’s going to have Vi train with Angel until Damian is born.”

“Does that mean you’ll be patrolling alone?”

“Probably.” She hummed as she stroked her hands down her husband’s perfect chest.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure I like that idea.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Rona. I know you’re very capable, but I’m still going to worry. It’s my job as your husband to want to protect you.”

“I won’t begrudge you that, Rich man. I’m thinking about seeing if Amanda wants to stay in New York. She seemed to like it there, as did Nikki.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Eve is back in Boston, and Shannon is going to be patrolling with her for now. Kennedy is back in London with Willow, Dawn and Giles at the IWC. Faith might’ve mentioned to me, that she and Bruce are going to configure Wayne Manor into a Slayer Academy, where potentials can come and train with both she and Buffy. Bring their Watchers in, too.”

“That actually sounds like a really good idea.”

“I thought so too.”

Bart sat up and wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her lazily for several moments, feeling her purr happily as he grabbed her ass and resettled her onto his burgeoning erection. 

“Talking is _over_ for now,” He whispered firmly, “I think you need to ride me, my perfect girl. It’s been too long since I’ve felt your perfect pussy wrapped around me.”

Rona giggled softly, but lifted up the t shirt she’d grabbed, that was her husband’s and tossed it aside, leaving her completely naked underneath. Taking little Bass in hand, she sunk down onto it, and sighed out in blissful pleasure. 

“Do you think we’ll ever get tired of doing this?” She moaned. 

“ _No_.” He grunted, thrusting his hips up sharply to make his point known. 

“Good answer.”

She kissed him hard then, and for the next several hours—Rona Bass proceeded to fuck her husband into a veiled orgasmic _stupor_. 

It wasn’t until the early rays of light finally fell over their patio, that their mutual sounds of completion gave way to a deep and satisfied slumber. 

Many hours later, the lovebirds were on their beach after eating a simple breakfast of fruit and danish...and Rona was watching her gorgeous husband as he showed off his surfing skills. 

He was wearing a pair of board shorts, that did absolutely nothing to hide his firm ass, nor his luscious thighs and his six pack was probably the envy of a man half his age. His body was a bit pale, but that would change the longer they stayed here...

...but for now?

_She was very much enjoying the show._

When he’d finally finished his late morning routine, he sauntered over and grinned down at her, before running his hand through his hair and getting her wet. 

“Bart!”

“Come on, baby girl. Come and let me show you how to surf?”

“Really?”

“Do you want to try?”

Rona smirked. 

She had surfed in Southern California during her freshman year of college. She’d met a boy, in her economics class, that was a rather avid surfer. He had offered to teach her a few things, and she’d been willing to learn. 

They’d had sex too, but it had been totally causal—as she wasn’t looking for anything like a relationship at that time. 

“Sure, why not.”

She stood up and grabbed her board shorts, putting them on over her bikini bottoms, and then followed her husband out towards the sparkling blue water. 

He was fucking adorable, as he showed her how to pop up and maneuver on the surf board. Rona listened and watched, and then nodded when she felt she was ready. 

Bart had several boards: a white and red long board that had obviously been for Chuck...maybe when he was just beginning to learn? There were two fish surfboards (one a greenish color and the other yellow) and a blue short board. 

Bart picked up the green fish board he’d been using and gestured for Rona to take the white and red one, but she just grabbed the yellow one and ran for the waves. She didn’t look back, but she could feel her husband watching her. She paddled out into the surf and waited. 

It only took him a few moments to follow her out. 

“You surf?”

She shrugged. “It’s been a few years, but yeah. I leaned when I was at USC.”

Bart threw back his head and laughed. 

“Fuck, you’re _perfect_. All right, little girl...show me your moves.”

And she did. 

It was hit or miss at first, but like riding a bike—after her fourth run—she was carving through the water fairly well. 

Several hours later, completely exhausted but happy, she followed her husband out of the water. 

“You’re quite good.”

“Thanks.”

“Where did you surf in LA?”

“Well, I first learned at Manhattan Beach. Later on, spent some time at Laguna Beach and Malibu too.”

“Who taught you?”

“His name was David, and he was born and raised in LA.”

“Did you date?”

“No. We had sex, but it _wasn’t_ dating.”

Bart had just reached their patio, when he stopped cold and turned to look at his wife. 

The expression on his face was rather amusing.

“I’m sorry? You had sex, but didn’t date?”

“Nah, I didn’t date as a general rule.”

Bart grabbed her and sat her down in his lap, and Rona gave him a dubious look. 

“Are you going to ask me now about my sexual history, husband?”

“Maybe. I mean, think of it as a return on my investment. Net loss, gains, accounting?”

“You really think that’s gonna _work_?”

“Fine, I’m curious. You know about Evelyn, Misty and Diana...but I don’t know a thing about your sexual past, wife. Hardly seems equitable, wouldn’t you agree?”

Rona sighed. “I suppose you make a valid point, husband. Fine. If we’re going to do the overshare, I need a beer. You want one?”

“Sure.”

Rona grabbed two Corona’s out of the cooler and popped them open, handing one to her husband while she took the other.

After taking a healthy swallow, she sat down between Bart’s legs, where he’d patted his hand to guide her to his liking, and then she spoke...

“I lost my virginity after graduation from High School. It was one time, and I was on top. It was horrible and he lasted all of five minutes.”

Bart chuckled at that. 

“When I got to USC, I met David in my Economics class. He was easy going, fun and had just gotten his heart broken to bits, by his high school girlfriend. I told him about you, and we’d agreed to a friends with benefits thing. No kissing and no staying over. It worked, but I always felt unsatisfied. It was vanilla, and it served a purpose. After the Bringers came and I went to Sunnydale, there was nothing for a while. When I left Chicago, Giles wanted me to go to Mexico City, but that didn’t work for me. I spent a month in Cleveland with Faith, and she had showed be a bit of the Dungeon Scene. Enough for me to realize that maybe that might work for me. When I got to New York, I scouted the local underground until I found the Purple Lair. Seemed like a good vibe, and it was high end. Weekly testing, very safe. Non-Disclosure Agreements were standard, and I wore a wig and a mask. Not that I thought I’d be recognized, but I knew enough from talking to Faith, that it was better to not see the same person twice. As a club Dominatrix, penetrative sex was not something I engaged in often. Twice, as a matter of fact. The first time was about six months after I’d gotten to New York. He was very clingy, and kept requesting me. I made myself scarce for about three months after and when I came back? I made sure not to engage in anything more than oral sex for a while. About six months ago, there was a man...and I did.”

“Just the one time?”

“Yep.”

“And how was it?”

“Fine.”

“Rona?”

“It was _just fine_ , Bart. He got what he wanted out of it, and I’d realized...” her voice fell away, and Bart rolled her over and cupped her cheeks, his expression fierce. 

“Realized what?”

“That it wasn’t enough.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

Rona bit her lip and sighed. 

“It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Then if it isn’t, why won’t you just come out and tell me?”

Rona groaned and then pushed herself up into a sitting position and glared at her husband. 

“The first time I’ve ever reached a climax, during sex of any kind?”

“Yes?”

“Was that night in New York.”

Bart blanched. His eyes went wide at what his wife was telling him. He gazed up at her, and could see her body language shifting, and it was closing off quickly. 

“Little girl, come here _please_.”

He held out his hand and sighed in relief when Rona took it, and allowed him to fold her within his embrace. 

“You’re serious?”

“Yep. I’m really good at _giving orgasms._ But I’ve never been able to achieve orgasm with a partner before you. At first, I’d thought it was because there was something wrong with me, but after New York...and then at Faith’s wedding when you kissed me?”

“I do remember that.” He admitted with a smug grin on his face. 

“Yeah, well...it made me realize that it wasn’t so much about the sex as it was about _you_.”

“So I popped your orgasmic cherry, huh?”

Bart’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively, and Rona smacked her husband’s chest playfully, and laughed out in glee at how fucking adorable he was. 

“Yes, Rich man!” She snickered. “You _did._ ”

“Good. Is it wrong of me, that now that I know that? It makes me almost beyond pleased?”

“Gods, you’re such an arrogant jerk. It’s one of the things I love about you, but it’s also kinda irritating too.”

“Nah, you adore me.”

Rona sighed and climbed back into her husband’s lap and kissed him...a gesture he was only too willing to reciprocate. 

“I do.” She breathed out at last. 

“And I adore you, too—my sweet, _perfect_ girl. Maybe we need to make up for lost time, what do you think? I owe you at least a few years worth of orgasms, right?”

“I think that sounds about fair.”

“Any preferences?”

“Nope. I’m an equal opportunist when it comes to you. Your mouth, hands, dick...they’re all listed amongst my favorite things.”

“Oh?” Bart smirked. “And what else is on that list, wife?”

“Your eyes, your mind, your heart, your stubborn personality and uncompromising nature. Your penchant for deviousness and your tender side, that you only show to me and Chuck.”

“What about my bank account?”

“ _Sperm bank, sure.”_

Bart grinned widely, and then shook his head at how fucking lucky he was. 

“You have a one track mind, Mrs. Bass.”

“And? We’re on our _honeymoon_ , Mr. Bass. It kinda goes with the territory.”

“So it does.”

“Want to see if we can fuck each other into a coma?”

“Rona?!” Bart coughed out in stunned shock. “That’s _not possible!”_

“Could be. Might be fun to try it and see?” She teased as she walked her fingers along his shoulders.

“How am I going to keep up with you? You’re insatiable.”

“Poor baby. Sounds like such a _chore_ to have your wife want to fuck your brains out at any given moment. How ever will you cope?”

“Something tells me I’ll learn to cope just fine.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Would you take it any other way?”

“Nope. First one to pass out buys the next round of beer?”

“Shit, little girl.” He growled, rolling her underneath him with a wolfish grin, “You say the _sweetest_ things.”


	83. Fear No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving in St. Petersburg, Faith is introduced to several new people and then has a tender moment alone with her husband.

The flight to Russia had been long, even with breaking it up for a day in LA. Faith had been rather irritable at not being able to bring her dogs with her, as customs guidelines would mean they’d need to be quarantined for almost all of the time she’d be in country. They had taken to sleeping in their room, over in the corner by the window, since they’d been back from their honeymoon ( _except for when they were having sex)_ , but the night before they’d left?

They’d slept with Faith and Bruce in their bed, and Bruce had to wonder if his wife’s motherly instincts were becoming more and more heightened as her pregnancy progressed. 

So Alfred had stayed home, with Baba and Yaga...

...and Bruce and Faith were on their private jet with Buffy, John and Roger. 

“Are you nervous?” John asked seriously, as the flight was getting ready to land. 

“A little bit,” Faith admitted with a stifled yawn, “I just want to make a good impression.”

“They’ll love you.” Bruce reassured. “Just be yourself.”

“Maybe be your _happier_ self.” Buffy deadpanned, causing Faith to stick her tongue out at her sister Slayer. 

“Why didn’t you two take your own jet again?” Faith snarked petulantly. 

“Better for the environment.” John quipped, half-serious and Faith sighed, but didn’t argue the valid point. 

She was actually becoming a bit of an environmental geek since the climate conference. 

Even going so far as to investigating whether or not solar panels would be possible for Wayne Manor. 

Bruce had rolled his eyes at that, but wisely, kept his opinions to himself. 

“It’s important to reduce our carbon footprint.” Faith replied haughtily, “If we’re going to be traveling privately, then we‘ll need to look into ways to balance it out.”

“You’ve turned her into an eco-warrior.” Buffy snipped, her comment directed at her boyfriend, more than at Faith’s husband. 

“What can I say?” John parlayed, “I do care about the environment.” His gaze then fell to Wayne, “And this one here is going to corner the market on green tech, which I’m still pissed about, by the way.”

“Get _over_ it.” Bruce bit back. “It’s not my fault you didn’t cry _dibs_ , like some sixth-grader when you decided to take out Miranda and absorb her assets. Maybe you’ll need to do better research next time.”

“Gods, you’re a jerk.” John huffed. “How do you stand him, Faith?”

“Very well, actually.” She bantered back. “Standing, sitting, laying down, on all fours? I don’t think there’s a position we haven’t tried. _Right, Krasivyy?”_

Buffy snickered, while Bruce just gave his wife the stink eye and Roger shook his head in admonishment. 

“Young Lady, you really need to curb your baser tendencies in public.”

“But I’m not _in_ public. So therefore, it doesn’t _count_.”

“Semantics.” Roger warned. 

“Eh, potayto...potahto...

“Do you enjoy annoying me?” Roger asked, and Faith just grinned. 

“ _Only all the time.”_

“Could you at least _attempt_ to be on your best behavior?” Roger admonished seriously. “I’m sure you’re not unaware of how closely you’ll be watched these next few days. There are many of the old guard who are quite serious staunch traditionalists, and your brand of snark and humor might leave something to be desired. No cussing, no sarcasm and please for the love of everything holy, no sexual innuendo’s!”

“Fine!” Faith grumbled petulantly. “Take all the fun out of it, why don’t you.”

“That’s my job.”

Faith rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat, staring out her window and ignoring all the looks being sent her way. She then felt Bruce’s mind push gently into hers, but she just huffed and pushed back, not wanting to hear right now, how he agreed with Roger. 

She could _feel_ that he did.

“Faith...” he bit out lowly, but she just shook her head, even as she kept her gaze averted. 

Bruce’s belabored sigh, was to be expected but she just didn’t care right now. 

“I’m not an idiot, okay? So I don’t _appreciate_ being treated as one.” Her voice was even, but short. “I’m nervous, and scared, and so many other things right now, but if I can’t be myself around the people who are _supposed_ to have my back in all this nonsense, then you can all go and _fuck off!_ No one is more aware of the stakes than I am. If I fuck this up, it’s not just about me, but my son! _My family._ So cut me some slack, alright? If I’m going to be required to be Stepford Faith, to get through these next few days, then what’s the point? I need to be real, and I can do that and be respectful, even if none of you believe that I’m capable of it.”

She could feel the shock, shame and exasperation of everyone sitting there. Bruce’s emotions were the most discernible, as he was primarily worried and apologetic. 

“I don’t think anyone thinks you’re an idiot, Faith.” Buffy piped in softly. “And we’re all aware of how important this is for you, and for Damian. But Roger is right, in a way. Russia is different than home. Culturally, I’m sure you know some of that from your family, but you didn’t grow up in this environment. And I’m sure, as much as you’ve studied it with Roger, a few things will probably be lost in translation. You’ve always been so good as observing and holding back when it’s suited you? Maybe, take a page out of that book. Use that part of whom you’ve always been, to gather intel, and then use it to your advantage when the time is right. There’s no protocol, that says you have to be on the offensive here. Not yet, right?”

Faith glanced over at her sister Slayer and smirked as she said silently... 

_**You do make a good point.** _

_I often do, but you’ve only just begun listening to me and not taking exception to everything that comes out of my mouth._

_**True. You’ll keep your eyes and ears open too? Feel around and let me know whom you get a bad vibe off of?** _

_Of course. Think of this like going into battle, Faith. Which it is, in a quasi fucked up way. Just make sure they’ll never see you coming._

_**I can do that.** _

_I know you can._

_**Thanks for being here.** _

_Where else would I be, you bitch? We’re in this together. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m actually looking forward to this. It’ll be fun. We can plot and plan, and it’ll be good._

_**Are there potentials here in Russia?** _

_Yes. Four that I’m aware of. Why?_

_**Just curious. It might not be a bad idea to arrange a visit. I’m sure their watchers have informed them who I am and who you are. It never hurts to have loyal people on the inside.** _

_That’s not a bad idea. I’ll text Giles once we’re situated._

_**Good.** _

They broke eye contact and Bruce’s voice, which was slightly put out, said, “All better?”

“Yes.” Faith replied with a hint of snark. 

Bruce just sat back and eyed his wife, who was purposefully not making eye contact with him. He could tell she was irritated, and likely her hormones weren’t helping the situation any. He couldn’t help but feel worried about the next four days, and how it would all play out. He didn’t want to see her stress herself out needlessly, but realistically—he knew that she had good reason to feel the way she did. 

He opened his mind up again, and just tried to send out what reassurance he could, and after a few moments her eyes locked with his, and his lips quirked up.

**You’re upset with me?**

_No Krasivyy, I just wish that I had some kind of idea what to expect._

**That’s understandable. How about we make a deal?”**

_Which is?_

**If you feel at any time that it’s getting too much you let me know, and I’ll come to the rescue. Whisk you away, or play interference. Theatricality and deception are my forte, you know?**

Faith’s expression lifted into an amused smirk. 

_Should I be concerned?_

**Vixen. But seriously, Gorgeous, whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.**

_Did you bring your suit?_

**No, that would’ve looked too suspicious if Batman showed up in Russia whilst we are there, don’t you agree?**

_Yeah, but it would’ve been fun._

She heard Bruce chuckling deeply into her mind, and she had to visibly repress the shiver that so wanted to break free. 

**You look exquisite. I like that dress very much.**

_This old thing?_

**Yes, that old thing. Red is definitely your color. If we didn’t have company, I’d show you just how much I like that dress. It does absolutely nothing to hide how deliciously lush you look right now.**

Faith blushed, and Bruce’s smirk turned wicked. 

Both John and Buffy were watching the couple in front of them, and John sighed with a tinge of jealousy. 

“So unfair.” He whispered into his girlfriend’s ear. 

“What?” Buffy teased. “That they can talk telepathically to each other, but you _can’t_?”

“Yes.”

“Poor baby.”

“Not nice, Sweetness.” John zinged back with a playful grin. “Do you think it’ll ever be possible?”

“Maybe. It’s not something I’ve made the attempt with anyone but Faith and Willow before, John. I would imagine it’s possible, but why? I’d think you’d prefer having your thoughts to yourself.”

He shrugged, but didn’t deny it. 

“Maybe it’s just intellectual curiosity.”

“Or maybe?” Buffy challenged, “Your male ego that is rather _competitive_ , is put out that Bruce can do something you can’t do?”

Blue eyes considered her, and Buffy could see him processing her comment. In the end though, he just shrugged again, and replied, “Maybe.”

“Hmmm, for what it’s worth? I’m not too worried about it. If it happens, that’s fine. It doesn’t change how I feel.”

“Oh? And how do you feel, Sweetness?”

“Happy. And surprisingly okay with that fact.”

“Me too.”

“Good. Just do me one teensy favor?”

“And that would be?”

“Try and remember that not everything needs to be a competition.”

John chuckled and shook his head at her, wagging a mocking finger in her direction as he teased, “ _Hello, Pot. I’m, Kettle.”_

“Fine. I will remember that too.”

“Noted.”

At that moment, Bruce’s pilot came over the intercom and announced their descent into Pulkovo Airport. 

Bruce leaned over and checked his wife’s seat belt, gave her a quick kiss, and then turned to look out the window as their jet made their final approach.

When they landed, their plane taxi’d towards the far end of the terminal, where their hosts would be waiting for them. 

But as soon as the door to the plane opened, Bruce felt his wife’s panic, and he came over and cupped her cheeks tenderly. 

“It’s going to be fine, Gorgeous. You trust me, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Yevgeny and Ivan are already here, so I’d imagine they’ll be part of the welcoming committee.”

“That’s good.” She sighed out relieved. 

Bruce nodded to Buffy, John and Roger and had them all deplane first. When his pilot came out, Bruce said, “You’ve got your luggage?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. You’ll taxi the plane in with Roger. He will stay here with you and make sure the plane gets stored properly. Lock it down, Alex, and set the codes for surveillance only. If anyone comes near the plane, I want to know about it immediately.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“If it happens, text me like we discussed. Send the link to Lucius as well.”

“Got it, Sir.”

“Good man.”

Bruce sighed and then said to his wife, “Ready for this?”

“Do I have a _choice_?”

“No.”

“Then it really doesn’t matter I’m ready or not, does it?”

Bruce smirked and Alex grinned. Faith glanced at their pilot and said sincerely, “Be careful, Alex. Stay with Roger, don’t talk to anyone directly that you don’t know personally. I’m not inclined to trust anyone at this point.”

“I understand, Ma’am.”

Bruce then nodded one final time, and led Faith down the stairs...

Where Vladim was waiting with his Ministers. Thankfully, Yevgeny and Ivan were there as well. Yevgeny had been rather comprehensive in the information he’d shared prior to the trip, so luckily, Faith had a general sense who these people were. 

“ _Nickolayevna_!” 

Vladim called out for her and came over, kissing her cheeks in welcome. 

Replying in Russian, she smiled and said, “Hello, Vladim. You’re looking well.”

“As are you, My Dear. Red is your color.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that.” She bantered, as Vlad took her arm and nodded to Bruce. 

“Mr. Wayne. I do hope your trip here was enjoyable?” Vlad spoke in English.

“It was fine. We did make a stop in Los Angeles to meet with a friend, before we headed east.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Faith piped up. “I wanted to see my best friend. I haven’t seen him since he gave me away at our wedding and he worries if I’m out of touch for too long.” She winked at her husband. “How many times on our honeymoon did he check in, Krasivyy?”

Bruce sighed in faux exasperation, but secretly impressed with his wife’s cunning.

“Only three times, Gorgeous. I did send him that video though. He was quite impressed.”

“Video?” Vladim inquired with curiosity. 

“Yes. I’ll let Bruce show you later. Argentina is such an interesting place, and I really enjoyed Buenos Aires.” 

Vladim hummed, but was unfortunately, unable to elaborate any further as they’d reached their contingent of welcomers. 

“Nickolayevna, you remember Yevgeny and Ivan, yes?”

“I do. It’s lovely to see you both again.”

The men bowed formally and then kissed her cheeks in welcome before shaking Bruce’s hand. 

Then she was introduced to a few other people, and Vlad make the introductions in Russian.

“This is my Minister of Defense, Boris Borodin.”

The man bowed and Faith nodded in greeting. She didn’t know these people, and based on Yevgeny’s intel, she cursorily knew who was loyal to Vlad and who wasn’t. Boris was one of those who played Switzerland quite well, according to Yevgeny. 

He tended to go where the power was. 

“This lovely lady, is my Minister of Finance. Oksana Balashova.”

“It is a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Your Grace.”

“Thank you. Vladim has said such wonderful things about you. You studied abroad, yes?”

“I did. I felt it would be helpful to bring in some fresh ideas, and the Premier was gracious enough to sponsor my schooling.”

“That’s wonderful.” Faith smiled sincerely. “I look forward to speaking with you more.”

“For me, as well.”

Vladim nodded proudly, and then took Faith to the one man, whom she had been told by both Yevgeny and Ivan...was Vlad’s most trusted Minister. 

“Ah, now this gentleman is My Minister of Intelligence: Igor Grankin.”

The man was around six feet four, and was easily a good two hundred forty pounds. 

“Were you a boxer, Minister Grankin?” Faith asked with interest, and she could feel the man’s surprise as he nodded in reply. 

“I was, Your Grace.”

“Olympics, 1968?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, I knew I’d recognized your name. You won the silver medal.”

The man chuckled, and Bruce was trying very hard not to grin at how clever his little vixen was. 

He hadn’t even gone back that far in his own research.

“I did.”

“Impressive. I’ve always enjoyed some Olympic sports more than others. Your Father? Sasha Grankin, he won the gold medal in 1952, right?”

“Yes, in Wrestling.”

“That’s right.” Faith hummed in agreement. “Such a _proud_ family tradition.”

“It is, Your Grace.” Igor said with pride. “My daughter, Tatiana will hopefully be representing Russia in the 2010 Summer Olympics in Fencing.”

“That’s wonderful. I look forward to hopefully meeting her?”

“She would be honored, Your Grace.”

“Perfect.” Faith smiled widely, and felt Igor’s responding pride in his family shine through. 

She had a feeling that might be his in, and she was right. 

The next person Faith was introduced to with the Minister of the Interior, Gorvan Dokovic.

According to Yevgeny, Gorvan was a traditionalist, and not a huge supporter of Vlad’s more progressive agenda. 

He was also a good ten years older than Vlad. 

“Your Grace.”

“Minister Dokovic, it’s lovely to meet you.”

“And for me,” the man replied in stilted Russian, “your Russian is quite _adequate_.”

“Thank you, it would probably be better if I spoke it more often. It’s good to be here, as it will give me that opportunity.”

Gorvan nodded, and then eyed Bruce with a hint of what Faith could only term as disgust. 

“And you’re an American?” He said in heavily accented English.

“I am,” Bruce replied back in fluent Russian. “My Father Thomas Wayne’s family was primarily of Scottish descent, but my Mother, Martha? Her family tree on her mother’s side was Slavic and Irish on her Father’s side. Her maiden name was Kane.”

“Oh? From what Slavic country?”

“Macedonia.”

“Ah. Southern Slavic region.”

“Yes.”

“I’m surprised you speak Russian.”

“I can speak eight languages, fluently.”

Faith turned to her husband and her eyes widened in awe. 

“Excuse me, _eight_? You **never** told me that?!”

Bruce smirked. “You never _asked_ , Gorgeous.”

“Spanish, Russian?”

“Italian, French, Bhutanese, Nepalese, Mandarin and Japanese as well. I can also do a passable Portuguese, if I need to.”

Gorvan’s eyes widened, and then he nodded, impressed. 

“I’m sure it’s helpful in your line of work to be able to communicate with those from around the world?”

“Well, it works even _better_ if they have no idea you can speak their language.” Bruce winked, and Gorvan chuckled and bowed his head in agreement. 

“Have you visited Russia before, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce smirked. “A long time ago, yes.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm, it was during my world travels. I had left Gotham for seven years and spent quite a bit of time in Southeast Asia, as well as Mongolia and a few other places. It helped to be able to communicate.”

Vlad coughed none too subtly, and Gorvan’s gaze narrowed slightly, but he seemed to be appeased for the moment. 

They were introduced to a few more people and then it was time to go through customs and head to where they’d be staying. 

When they got into their limousine, Faith noted that Buffy and John were in the same car as Yevgeny and Gorvan, while Ivan was riding with Oksana, Boris and Igor. 

Vlad was with them. 

“Your family will be arriving tomorrow as will the rest of your guests, Nickolayevna.”

“Thank you for making the arrangements, Vlad. We’re not going to be staying in Siberia, right?”

The man chuckled and replied fondly, “Only _you_ , my dear—would ever dare to speak to me in such a way. No, I’ve made other arrangements.”

“Okay.” Faith bit her lip and then said softly, “There was something else I’d wanted to discuss with you in private, at some point?”

Vlad turned his head, and he considered her for a moment before he smiled knowingly. 

“So you’ve _made_ your decision?”

“Yes.” Faith wasn’t going to play games, not about something as important as her Prababushka’s final resting place.

“And?”

“She needs to come home, Vlad. This is her home and we both know it. Regardless of what message you might think it’ll send, that’s not my reason for wanting this for her.”

“And you believe this is what _she_ would’ve wanted?”

“I _do_. She was orphaned, same as I was. And as much as I know she loved my babushka and my mom, she didn’t leave Russia by choice. This was her home, so I’m fairly confident this is where she’d wish to be interred.”

“And what do I get from this, Nickolayevna?”

“Well, the way I see it? It’ll make you look equally gracious and strong. If you don’t allow her to come home, then the message that sends to those who are against your policies, is that you’re _weak_. Afraid of what it might imply if Anastasia Romanova is given a place of honor back in her motherland. If you agree to allow her to come home? It’ll make you appear as if you have nothing to fear, and no one can accuse you of not being a traditionalist at heart, even if your ideas are more on the progressive side. _It’s a win-win.”_

Vlad lifted an eyebrow as he considered her for several minutes, before he smiled widely and his body shook with mirth. 

“You are quite the strategist, Nickolayevna.”

“I’m a _Slayer_ , Vlad. It goes with the territory. I’m better at fighting supernatural baddies, it’s true. But even I can see the wisdom behind this. You’ve invited me here, and whatever your reasons, even you must know that a Russia united, is stronger than one divided.”

“I’m aware of that, young lady.” He sighed. “Do you have any idea when you’d like to have this done?”

“I need to look into customs laws in the US and make sure there’s not going to be any legal issues first. I’m hoping it won’t take very long. Definitely before our baby comes.”

“That would be wise.”

“Her Family is buried in the St. Petersburg Cathedral, right?”

“They are.”

“Is that going to work?”

“It should. I may take me a bit of time to convince some of my Minister’s. When is your child due?”

“The due date is April 11th, next year...give or take.”

“Then we have some time.”

“We do.”

“I will see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Vlad.”

“Of course, Nickolayevna.”

As they continued on their drive through the former capital of Russia, Faith gaped openly at the scenery as they passed by several places of importance. Faith listened as Vlad explained certain historical sites, and she nodded and asked questions too. When they finally arrived at their destination, Faith’s eyes widened and then she giggled softly. 

“Do the Four Seasons have accommodations _everywhere_ , Krasivyy?”

“Most places, Gorgeous.”

“I took the liberty of booking the hotel for your stay. There should be adequate accommodations for all those coming for the celebrations.”

“Was that the St. Isaac’s Cathedral we passed?”

“It was. There is much to see and do here in St. Petersburg.”

“I’m looking forward to exploring it all.” Faith replied with excitement.

“Your itinerary will be handled by Yevgeny, and he will make sure you have everything you need for your stay.”

“Thank you for that.”

“Of course. You will be staying in the Admirality Suite, the remaining suites have been booked for members of the Royal Family’s that will be attending.”

“How many people accepted your invitations? You’d never said.”

“ _All of them,_ Nickolayevna. To my knowledge, there will be about 100 guests arriving within the ensuing days.”

“Wow, no pressure there.”

Vlad chuckled. “You will do fine.”

“Famous last words.” She bantered back playfully, earning another round of humor. 

It took them about an hour to get settled into their room, and Alex texted them about thirty minutes later, stating the plane was secured and he was on his way into town with Roger.

Moving over to the window, Faith gazed out over the city, at least what she could see of it—and sighed. 

Then smiled when she felt her husband’s arms circle around her waist, his hands cupping her belly possessively and his lips finding purchase on his favored spot along her neck. She sighed in contentment, instinctively pushing herself further into the safe haven of Bruce’s embrace. 

“I can’t believe we’re finally _here_.” She whispered emotively. “It all feels...”

“Surreal?”

“Yeah.” 

Placing her hands over Bruce’s, Faith was suddenly hit with the reality that this would at some point in the future, be their son’s home. That from this place, Damian would likely find his happiness, perhaps even his own family...

And that thought was a sobering one. 

“What are you thinking?” Bruce asked softly. 

“Just wondering what Damian’s future might look like someday. I’d like to think I will be able to instill a love for Russia and its traditions, like my mom and babushka did for me. Teach him to speak the language, appreciate its history and maybe when he’s old enough? Find someone who appreciates it too. Selfishly, it would be nice if he could find someone with a family background here. Maybe that’s unfair of me to wish for that, but being here? I can’t seem to help it.”

“I think that’s completely understandable, Gorgeous. It’s a hard thing to wrap my mind around sometimes, that had things been different? Had you been born here and grown up within the Royal Family, we would’ve likely, never met. Selfishly, I’m glad you didn’t but I do realize that things happen for a reason. Leaving Gotham all those years ago, was both the easiest and the hardest decision I’ve ever made in my life.”

He turned his wife within his arms and smiled down sadly at her. 

“Right before I disappeared, and right after Rachel slapped me and expressed her feelings on my choices? I confronted Carmine Falcone. It wasn’t one of my better moves, but I was angry that he’d killed Chill and taken my chance at vengeance from me. Rachel had dropped me off in front of his private club, and once I’d made my way inside and found him? He made a point of taunting me.”

“What did he say?”

“His first comment to me was ‘ _You’re taller than you look in the tabloids, Mr. Wayne_.’ His goons were searching me when he’d said it, and I suppose I was acting purely on instinct at that point.”

“We’re you scared?”

“No. I was _very angry._ Told me that he was insulted that I hadn’t brought a gun, as his goon threw me down in the seat across from him. He mocked that I could’ve just sent him a ‘ _thank you’_ note for having Chill killed. I told him that I hadn’t come there to thank him, that I wanted to show him that not everyone in Gotham was afraid of him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t take too kindly to that?”

“No, he was smug. He told me to look around his club, pointing out several prominent people: city councilmen, union officials, couple off duty cops and a judge. Then he pulled out a gun and pointed it at me, and told me he’d have no hesitation blowing my head off in front of all of them. Told me that was power that you can’t buy. _That it was the power of fear.”_

“And did you believe him?”

“I told him I wasn’t afraid of him and in my naïveté, I’d believed it, because I was Bruce Wayne and that I was still somehow, protected. He told me it was because I thought I had nothing to lose. He then threatened Rachel and Alfred. Then he pulled the trigger on the gun, but the chamber was empty. I flinched in that moment, and...”

He paused, and felt his wife’s mind wash over his in her loving, soothing way and he sighed. 

“He said that people from my world, _have so much to lose_. That just because my parents were killed, that I mistakenly thought I’d understood about the ugly side of life...but that I really didn’t. _That I’d never tasted desperate._ That I was Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham...that I’d have to go thousands of miles away to meet someone who didn’t know my name.”

“Was he right?”

“He was.” Bruce nodded. “In a way. He angrily told me that the only reason I was there was to prove something to myself in my anger, and that I didn’t understand his world. _And that people fear, what they don’t understand._ Right before I left...he spoke about the time he’d shared a cell with Chill, and that he’d said my Father begged ‘ _like a dog’.._.the night Chill killed him and my mom.”

“Your Father would’ve **never** done that, Bruce.”

He smiled and hummed in agreement. “You’re right. My Dad was calm, and rational...but looking back on it now? I think he was just trying to make sure we got out of there alive. But after I was tossed out of Falcone’s club? That was when I decided to leave Gotham. That I needed to see the uglier side of life to understand how to fight it. How to defeat it.”

“Turning fear against itself?”

“Yes. Gorgeous, of all the emotions in the world, **fear** is the one thing that holds people back from their potential. It’s the one emotion that paralyzes and prevents good people from doing what’s right. Fear of the unknown, fear of loss, fear of betrayal, fear of death. Even when I came back home after seven years, and took up the mantle as the protector of Gotham? I was still bound by that fear. Fear of losing those I cared about...”

“Rachel.”

“Yes. That’s why I allowed her to walk away from me, because as much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself? I was still afraid.”

“And you’re not anymore?”

“No. On my birthday, the gift you gave to me?”

“Yes, you haven’t talked about it and I didn’t want to push.”

“I know. It’s one of the things I love the most about you, Gorgeous. _You seem to instinctively know what I need.”_

“I just _know_ you, Krasivyy. You are the kind of man who needs to process things in your own way. You like to see all the angles, and find a way to logically make sense of the illogical. Even with everything you’ve seen, it’s that one part of your psyche you can’t shut off.”

Shaking his head, Bruce chuckled fondly and whispered out in absolute adoration and awe, “Of all the things I’ve ever seen in my life, I will never tire of how you do that, my love. _You see so clearly.”_

“It’s a talent...”

“That I _**absolutely appreciate**_ more than words can ever express, Gorgeous.” He kissed her softly, then led her over to their bed and sat down with Faith in his lap. “I might’ve shared the real reason behind my initial reaction when you told me about Damian.”

“Which was?” 

Bruce sighed at the hesitation in his wife’s voice and his gaze locked with her’s, his mind opening up as he said silently...

**I will never be able to adequately make up for hurting you, Gorgeous. I was scared. I allowed my fear to take hold because I knew I was in love with you, and I was afraid of what a child might mean for me as Batman. I wasn’t ready to accept that I could have both you and Damian, and be Batman too. I allowed my own selfishness and fear to take hold and for those two days, I struggled with both parts of my duality. I’ve spent so long separating the two, and I don’t think it even registered with me that I could be both equally, and not have to choose.**

He felt and heard his wife sigh into his mind, and he could feel she understood where he was coming from. 

_A part of me wondered if it was that, or that you didn’t want that with me._

Her silent reply broke his heart...

**It was never about that, my love. Yes, I’ll admit my first instincts were not good thoughts, but that was more from my own innate feelings of distrust than about you. You have never given me a single reason to doubt in your honesty, nor in your strength.**

_If I had disappeared, would you have searched for me?_

**Yes. I would’ve burned the world down to find you and bring you back to me.**

Faith could feel the utter sincerity and resolve from her husband and she nodded, breaking eye contact. 

“I had wondered.” She finished softly, and could see the pain in her husband’s eyes as he considered her. 

“I _**can’t wait**_ to hold our son in my arms. I can’t wait to **see** you do the same. At the end, before I returned, I saw a brief glimpse of what our future would be, and I’ll admit? _I’m excited for all of it, Gorgeous._ I know we’ll have our challenges, and we might not always agree on everything? But there is no one in this world I could’ve done this with, but you. No one I would’ve allowed myself to share this with. I know that’s why I’ve never considered it before, not even with Rachel. Because I was waiting for _you_.”

Tears began to fall from Faith’s eyes and Bruce just wiped them away gently. 

“I never thought I’d have a family.” She admitted quietly. “I thought I’d be dead, and I was okay with that reality. But now I have a life, and selfishly I’m glad I didn’t give up.”

“Me too.”

“We don’t have to be anywhere for a while, right?”

“Yes, and?”

“You’d mentioned liking my dress?”

Bruce’s expression shifted from lovingly to lustful in a blink of an eye. 

“I _do_ , especially how _these_ ,” he cupped her right breast and gave it a purposeful squeeze, smirking when his lovely wife’s eyes closed in pleasure, “look right now. I’d meant it, Gorgeous. _You look absolutely lush and delicious, in this dress.”_

“Then maybe you should take advantage of me.”

Rolling her up on the bed, Bruce covered his wife’s body with his own, his arousal already heavy and aching to be freed from its confines as he stared down possessively at his gorgeous wife. 

“ _ **I definitely think that can be arranged.”**_


	84. A New Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy gets a message from the Powers that Be.

Since they had no obligations that first evening, Bruce and Faith spent their first night just ordering in room service and enjoying their alone time. 

Apparently, they weren’t the only ones who had that idea, either. 

As John and Buffy were currently, taking some quality alone time _doing_ each other. 

“Do you think we’ll ever get tired of this?” Buffy asked breathily, as she swirled her hips over her boyfriend’s, his hands gripping them tightly as he arched up into her with purpose. 

“No.”

“Really?”

“ _Definitely not.”_

He grunted, lifting his body up even harder, as he pushed into his girlfriend with more force...and smirking at her gasping moans as she met him thrust for thrust. 

“Go harder...”

Are you sure you can take it, Sweetness?”

“John...” she hissed in warning, “ _Harder_...”

He gripped her and rolled her underneath his body, and did as requested...enjoying Buffy’s eyes rolling in the back of her head as he pounded into her with abandon. 

“You almost there?”

“Yes...”

Reaching down and finding that perfect spot, John rubbed...

And Buffy detonated with a high-pitched whine of his name, which triggered his own release shortly thereafter. 

When he collapsed into her, she held him tightly, and kissed his neck tenderly...humming in blissful satisfaction.

“What was that?”

“Fourth.”

“Hmmm, do you think you have enough left in the tank for another round?”

“Fuck, Sweetness? Are you trying to _kill_ me with sex?”

“That wasn’t _exactly_ my intention.”

John lifted his head with a curious look. 

“No? Then what might your intention be?”

“Unconsciousness, maybe? But nothing _too_ permanent.”

John just huffed out a snort, but eventually found the strength to disengage and pull his girlfriend into his side, kissing her forehead lovingly. 

“Do you think these rooms are being surveilled?” He whispered into her ear, and Buffy shook her head. 

“I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Not video, but maybe audio?”

“Maybe. Do you think everyone?”

Buffy scrunched her nose in thought, but shook her head again. 

“No. Maybe just a few.”

John hummed in agreement, though deep down he was unsure if he believed that or not. 

“Well, if we are? We gave them a good show.”

Buffy giggled and nodded in reply. “That we did.” She sat up and grinned down at him impishly. “Wanna go again?”

“Sweetness! Give me a chance to downshift before you take me for another ride. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“You’re thirty-seven, old man. When _is_ your birthday?”

“March 6th, you?”

“January 19th.”

“And you’ll be twenty-seven?”

“Yes.”

John sat up too and gave his girlfriend a considering look. 

“I’d assumed you were older than Faith, you know.”

“No, she’s a month older, but I was called younger than she was. I was fifteen, she was sixteen.”

“Huh, so have you killed more vampires than she has?”

“Yes. Are you looking for an _exact_ number?”

“Do you know exactly how many you’ve killed?”

“More or less.”

“Then lay it on me.”

“Give or take, I’ve killed close to five hundred vampires, and three hundred demons.”

“Shit, Sweetness!” John swallowed heavily and then asked seriously, “And Faith?”

“Faith was living in Cleveland, John. There’s a Hell Mouth there too, so my guess is her numbers are fairly close to mine. During the battle with the First Evil in Sunnydale? Faith probably killed more of the Turok-Han than I did, but you’d have to understand that for several years? Faith wasn’t active.”

“Why?”

“Well, she was in a coma for a year, which you know a bit about. Later on, she spent some time getting her head on straight trying to come to terms with the rage inside of her. I’d always suspected if she’d learned to channel her powers, she would be a force to be reckoned with.”

“And has she?”

“Bruce tempers her impulses in a way even Violet and Rona couldn’t do. I think it’s because they’re so alike.”

“Wayne has always been an enigma. Even when I was younger, he was rather aloof and closed off.”

“You _knew_ Bruce when you guys were kids?”

“Not really. I was several years ahead of him in terms of schooling and I went to public school, not private school. But everyone in Gotham _knew of Bruce Wayne._ He was Gotham’s Prince, and the tabloids chronicled his life quite extensively.”

“That had to suck.”

“I’m sure it did, but he definitely played into that too. Especially when he came back to Gotham, after he’d disappeared.”

“I’d meant to ask, but the papers have been rather quiet about our relationship, why is that?”

John sighed. “I have a good friend who is the editor of the Lifestyle and Social columns in the Gotham Times, and she was nice enough to give me a pass for now. I told her about you, and that you work in the Intelligence circles. I didn’t get into specifics, Sweetness—so don’t look at me like that! But she was respectful of my desire to keep our relationship on the down low, for a little while longer. I’d imagine when the time comes that we have something life altering to announce, that will change—but for now?”

“You did that for me?”

“I did.” He sighed. “I would prefer announcing you’re mine from the highest mountain, but I know you, Buffy. And I know that isn’t your preference.”

Buffy straddled her boyfriend’s lap, and kissed him with reverence. 

“Are you trying to protect me?”

“Yes and No. Faith and Bruce will always have the more noted love story. The Gotham press will always be focused on them by virtue of who they are. That’s okay by me. That means we can keep our relationship a bit more private. In a fucked up way, it works having them as a distraction.”

Buffy giggled in amusement. “Don’t tell Faith that! She might go all Slayerfest on your ass.”

“Noted.” John paused and then asked seriously, “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“Faith?”

“Yeah.”

Buffy shrugged helplessly. “Bruce will help her deal. I think this is going to be very hard for her in a way it hasn’t sunk in yet. To see the history of her heritage, in a real and tangible way? To see the way Anastasia lived, before she escaped Russia? I’ve only seen pictures of some of these palaces, and it’s hard to fathom what that life must’ve been like. Faith doesn’t covet that kind of life, John. She never has. She prefers leather, weapons and her motorcycle.”

“And fucking Wayne.”

Buffy giggled and nodded. “That too. Can you blame her?”

John cocked a mocking eyebrow. “Oh? Do you have a thing for Wayne?”

Buffy snorted out a laugh. “Are you _kidding_ me? That man is too moody for me. He reminds me too much of Angel on a good day.”

Grinning from ear to ear, John just shook his head with amusement. 

“Wow! I’m fairly certain that actually makes sense.” He quipped. “In fact, Faith might’ve mentioned at one point getting a t-shirt in the style of the Seven Dwarves with Angel being _Broody_ and Bruce being _Moody_.”

Buffy flopped down on the bed, as she laughed hysterically at the thought. John’s grin widened even further as he too, chuckled deeply.

“Faith’s birthday is coming up soon. I’m so going to get that for her!”

“Just do it when I’m not there.” John snickered. “I’d rather not have Wayne come after me in one of his Batman snits.”

“Coward.”

“Not nice, Sweetness.”

“Whatever.”

“I was wondering when I’m going to meet your sister?”

Buffy’s expression shifted as she considered that question seriously. 

“Well, I suppose we could fly to London when we’re done here?”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. She asks about you, and how we’re doing. I think she’s happy for me, even though we miss each other.”

“Is she seeing anyone?”

“No. Dawn and Xander, who is my best friend from High School, have gotten rather close...but they’re just good friends. My little sis, she’s kinda shy and introverted.”

“Well, maybe she just hasn’t found the right person yet.”

“How was Zac?” She changed the subject, “You didn’t tell me how he was doing when you spoke with him yesterday.”

“He’s fine. He was bummed that his internship conflicted with coming to see us at Wolfram and Hart, but he’s excited to spend some quality time with Violet.”

“They seem to be getting along, from what Faith has said.”

“They are. I think they’re both gun shy, which is completely understandable given the circumstances.”

“Has Zac?”

John shook his head in the negative. “No, he hasn’t been in a relationship of any kind since it happened.”

“Have you heard anything from Khasmir?”

John scowled, as he pulled Buffy into him again. She could feel his rage and bitterness, and she couldn’t help but wonder just how much longer Miranda would last in the pit. 

“Angel left a burner phone with Salamin. He checks in weekly with updates. It’s nothing much more than she’s still alive. He doesn’t give me too many particulars, and I don’t ask for them. At least, not after the first week.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.” 

He swallowed heavily, his gaze averted as he stared out into the night though the open window. He didn’t feel guilty, not really. Miranda deserved her fate after what she’d done, but there was that part of his psyche, that couldn’t abide harm coming to a woman. He hadn’t been raised that way, and it rankled to a degree. He’d fought in combat with women by his side, and saw first hand how formidable both Buffy and Faith were. 

It was a fucked up reverse psychological cluster, that made him wonder if he’d been too harsh in his revenge. 

But then he’d talk to Zac and those feelings would abate completely. 

“The first week Salamin called, he told me Miranda had been attacked three times that week, but not the specifics of what had happened to her. From what he inferred, I assumed it must’ve been bad, as one of the prisoners was killed. Whether she did it, or not? I honestly don’t know. When he called the following week, I just asked him if she was still alive and he’d said ‘ _yes_.’ The week after that, the response was the same. It’s been that way every week, until this last week.”

“What happened?”

“There’s a prisoner who is a doctor, and apparently he asked for supplies to be brought into the prison. I think she might’ve been stabbed, but I’m not sure.”

“John...”

“I _know_ , Buffy. There’s a part of me that wonders if I’ll be judged harshly for allowing what’s befallen Miranda? I deeply cared for her once, and there’s a part of me that wonders if I’m a bad person for knowingly abetting her suffering.”

“If you are, than I am too.” Buffy piped up softly. “Did she even show any _remorse_ for what she’d done?”

“To Zac?”

“Yes.”

“ _None_ , not even a little bit. Called him, _easy prey._ ”

John felt Buffy flinch next to him, and he sighed in resignation. 

“What a _bitch_.” She said lowly. 

“Yeah.”

Sitting up, Buffy stared down into deep blue eyes that were storming with emotions that were raging through him. Buffy could feel everything John was feeling, and even with all that, there was a part of his emotions that were laced with remorse and regret. 

“If she had apologized? Do you think you might’ve been inclined to show her mercy?”

“Honestly?”

Buffy nodded. 

“Not then. I was far too into my anger and rage, and wanted her to suffer.”

“And now?”

“I don’t want her to suffer anymore. I just want it to be _over_.”

“She’s never going to leave that place, John.”

“I _know_ , Sweetness.”

“John, one thing I do know about the Powers that Be? Is once they feel she’s served her penance, she will be relieved of her life here. She made the choice to murder and harm without impunity, and would’ve continued to do so, had she not been stopped. She _preyed_ on the weak without a thought. She went after Pavel, which tells me she probably thought she could use his tech to build a bomb. That’s not the actions of a good person, or someone who can be redeemed.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, Sweetness. I’ve seen my fair share of killing in war. I’ve seen good people die, for God and Country. Believing that they were fighting for the right side, but is there ever a right side in war?”

“Yes. There _is_ good and evil, John. The hard part is that mortals, don’t have the same outward appearances of obvious evil that demons and vampires do. It’s more subtle, and _subversive_. Sometimes, a person who gives into the darkness can be redeemed...like Faith. Sometimes though, they can’t. And that is Miranda. Choice and consequence, John. We don’t always understand people’s choices and we don’t always get to decide their consequences either. For good or bad, this is the choice you were left with. Knowing what you know now? Do you really think that there would’ve been a better way to make sure Miranda Tate paid for her choices?”

“No, she would’ve manipulated, blackmailed or killed until she was spared her fate.”

“Very likely. I think it says more about you, that even with everything that she’s done? You still care about what happens to her. You’re not a bad person, John. You were just handed a shit situation and had to make the hard call.”

“Maybe.”

Buffy sighed, and then she said softly, “Let’s go take a bath and get something to eat. This will all look better in the morning.”

John nodded. “I’ll go start the bath,” he said resigned, “you want to get the food?”

“Sure.”

Buffy watched him go and once he was in the bathroom, she reached for his dress shirt and put it on. Making the quick call to room service, she then went and stood out on the balcony for a moment. She gazed up into the night sky and sighed in defeat, before she called out quietly, “Whistler, you got a moment?”

A second later, the half demon and emissary of the Powers was standing there, smirking at her. 

“We meet again, Buffy Summers.”

“You know why I’ve called you here, yes?”

“I _do_.”

“You have the power of precognition.”

“You know I do.”

They stared at each other and Whistler sighed and shook his head in exasperation. 

“Soon.”

“ _How soon?”_

“Soon enough, Slayer.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He then cocked his head and said simply, “You’ve _finally_ found your mate.”

“I have.”

“And he will be enough?”

“He will.”

Whistler nodded, knowing what her answer would be. 

“I bring word from the Powers, Slayer.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I do believe the message they wished me to convey was rather simple.”

“And that is?”

“ _Cookies_.”

Buffy hissed out on a stunted breath, as she gazed at Whistler in wonder. 

“So I’m?”

“Done baking, yes. You have a new life ahead of you, and a new mission to complete.”

“Which is?”

Whistler waved his hand out in front of them, and Buffy could see the lights of St. Petersburg in the distance. When she turned back, Whistler was gone. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she shook her head as she moved back into the room, hearing John calling for her. 

What in the world had Whistler meant by that?

When she got into the bathroom, John was waiting for her. He gazed up and noticed her look of confusion. 

“What is it?”

He held out his hand, and she was quick to remove his dress shirt, settling herself into the bathtub. Her body relaxed instinctively into John’s embrace and thankfully, he’d turned on a bit of music so they could talk freely for the moment. 

“I had a visitor.” She whispered quietly. 

“Who?” John asked. “I didn’t hear a knock at the door.”

“No, it was an emissary from the Powers that Be. His name is Whistler.”

She felt John’s shock as the emotion shot through him, and soon enough he’d maneuvered her so she was straddling him, his hands cupping her cheeks, his expression radiating curiosity and worry equally. 

“What did he want?”

“I _called_ him here.”

“Why?”

“You _know_ why.”

Buffy didn’t have long for John to catch on. It was one of the things she loved about him, that he was rather quick on the uptake. 

“And what did he tell you?”

“Soon.”

John bit his lip and nodded. 

“How soon?”

“Soon enough.”

“I see. How do you know this person?”

“I’ve dealt with him before. He has the power of foresight.”

“Ah, a handy friend to have?”

“Maybe.”

“What else did he say?”

Buffy sighed, as she ran her hands down John’s arms in a loving caress, their gazes were locked on each other...so there was no way to prevaricate as she said sincerely, “He had a message for me from the Powers.”

“Which was?”

“Cookies.”

John blanched for a second, before his face morphed into a wide, pleased grin. 

“ _Seriously?”_

“Apparently.”

“Hmmm, how interesting. So you’re done baking?”

“ **Apparently**.”

He nodded knowingly, and Buffy had to admit?

He was _fucking sexy_ when he smirked all smugly at her, like he was doing right now. 

“Was that _all?”_

“No. Apparently, I have a _new_ mission.”

“Which is?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea. He just waved his hand, and I guess I was just supposed to figure it out. I’m sure I’ll get a clue sooner or later.”

“Where were you when he did this?”

“Standing on the balcony. He waved his hand out towards the city....”

John’s eyes widened at the same time Buffy’s did and they both said, “ **Shit** ” simultaneously.

“I think we need to have a talk with Bruce and Faith at some point, yes?”

Buffy nodded. “I do.” She then bit her lip and said tenderly, “Whistler might’ve asked me if I’d found my mate?”

John’s face registered surprise for a split second, before he queried evenly, “And what did you tell him?”

“That I had.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. He asked me if you were enough?”

“I see. And I’m assuming you told him I was?”

“Of course I did, you dork!”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Gods! You’re such a _smug_ fuck!”

John chuckled and nodded in agreement. 

“And?”

“Just stating facts.”

“Well, you know this about me. But you also know you’re it for me. And you know I love you, Sweetness.”

Shaking her head, Buffy couldn’t help the soft giggle that escaped from her, at how blasé John Daggett could make those three little words sound like a _fait accompli._

“I love you too, you _arrogant_ man.”

“I know.” 

He winked at her playfully, causing her to push her hands against his chest...but then, felt his lips descend upon hers in a searching kiss. It wasn’t rushed, nor dominant...

It was sweet and filled with raw emotion...

When they broke apart, foreheads touching, John whispered will all due sincerity, “Whenever you’re ready, say the word, Sweetness.”

“You’re not going to get all romantic?”

He shrugged. “That’ll come _after_.”

“Deal.”


	85. Ambassador

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith on her first day in Russia, takes in the sites and learns more about her heritage.

Early the next morning, Faith woke up and felt her husband’s arms pull her more tightly into his warm and heavenly body. She hummed in pleasure, rubbing her backside suggestively against Bruce’s erection, which was _always_ ready to play first thing in the morning. 

His deep chuckle never failed to make her shiver with anticipation either. 

“Morning.”

“It _is_.” 

She wiggled herself against him purposefully a second time, smiling when her husband snickered again at her unspoken request. 

“Can I help you this morning, Wife?”

“That was the idea, Husband.”

“Oh?”

“Krasivyy?”

“Yes.”

“Shut up, and _fuck me now.”_

She could feel his face splitting into a pleased grin against her neck, before he gave her what she’d demanded from him. 

Later, once they’d showered, and were dressed—Roger texted. 

**I’m on my way to your suite. We have a schedule to keep.**

Faith sighed, gazing at herself in the bathroom mirror as she finished putting on her makeup for the day. Her outfit of choice was a simple, cowl necked Lavender sweater, a pair of grey tweed slacks, matching ankle boots, and her black leather fitted jacket. Her jewelry was also very minimalistic, just her silver hoops, engagement ring and a watch—that her husband had insisted on getting her for the trip. It was rather modest by Bruce’s standards, considering most of his watches were in the five to six figure range. 

This one was a Cartier Pasha silver watch. 

When she emerged from their bedroom, she found Bruce going over that days itinerary with Roger. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, Gorgeous. Everything is fine.”

“So what’s the plan for today, _Obi Wan?”_

Bruce smirked at his wife’s quick wit, while Roger just shook his head in exasperation. 

“Your guests have started to arrive. Eleanor, Cyrus, Blair and Lari arrived late last night. The van der Woodsen’s, arrived this morning. Chuck Bass will be arriving tomorrow morning. Natalia and Zarina will be here late tonight and the rest of your extended family will be arriving en masse by breakfast tomorrow. The British Royal family will be here in the evening tonight as will those from the Danish, Spanish and Monaco Royal families. Robert Steward will be the last to arrive, and he will be here on the 2nd.”

“What time will Zarina be getting in?”

“Around seven this evening.”

“What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Vladim and his Minister’s, will be taking you and your guests on a private tour of the Alexander and Catherine Palaces, just south of the city. You will be leaving after brunch around eleven thirty this morning and it’s about a thirty minute drive. Dinner this evening will be hosted at the home of Yevgeny Grimov. Tomorrow, there will be a tour of the St Isaac’s Cathedral, as well as a visit to the Admirality Building and an excursion along the Neva River. There will be a reception in the evening at Ivan’s home here in St. Petersburg. On the 2nd, you’ll be taking a tour to the Peterhof, and from there you will be visiting the nearest Olympic training center, as well as doing a visit to a local school. That evening, there will be a state performance you will be attending as the guest of honor. The 3rd is a free day to explore the sights, but dinner will be hosted by Vladim at his State residence here. On Unity Day, there will be a series of events including a service at the St. Petersburg Cathedral, and the day will culminate with a formal ball at the Hermitage.”

“Sounds busy.” Faith sighed. “I was talking with B, and we want to try and find a time to meet with any of the potentials that are close by, is that going to be possible?”

“I don’t see why not. Perhaps I can see if I can make arrangements for the 3rd for breakfast?”

“That would be good.” Faith nodded before she postulated, “I also want to meet the people. Just get a sense of what life is like here?”

“Well, like I said your day on the 3rd is fairly open. It also might be fine to stay in country after the 4th, just for a couple days. Go to Moscow, see a few of the other sites.” 

Roger then handed Faith that mornings paper. She glanced down at the front page and sighed. 

For there, in Russian of course, it read...

_**Grand Duchess Nickolayevna Returns Home** _

_**Late last evening, The Grand Duchess, Nickolayevna Romanova Wayne flew to St. Petersburg from her American residence in Gotham City. Here at the birthplace of her family, she will be spending from now until Unity Day, touring the sites of her ancestry with our beloved Premier Vladim Pushkin and several of his Ministers. Dignitaries from around Europe, some of whom are distant relations, as well as several noted businessmen, will also be attending the four days of festivities.** _

_**According to reports in the New York Times, Nickolayevna Romanova Wayne is expecting her first child with her husband, American Bruce Wayne. No word on the due date of the newest addition to the Romanov family.** _

_**Premier Vladim when asked for comment, indicated his ‘great pleasure’ at the news, as well as being able to showcase our great nation’s rich history to the rest of the world. He is hopeful for improved business relations and opportunities for Russia going forward.** _

_**We will have more to report on, in the days ahead.** _

  
Well, that was interesting, Faith thought to herself. 

Shaking her head, she set the paper down. 

“Not horrible, but it’s interesting how they’d pointed out the fact that Bruce is an American, yet didn’t give me the same thing.”

“They don’t see you in the same way, Gorgeous. I’m sure some probably do, but for many? Your Russian background is rather well documented, right?”

“I guess. I mean, my Prababushka married her servant, who’d escaped with her from Russia. I’m sure his family can be traced back? My grandparents, were both Russian. My Grandfather died before I was born, but his last name was Olenev.”

“Might be worth looking into a bit of your family’s background.” Roger postulated sincerely, “Your birth Father was half-Russian?”

“Yes.” Faith bit out. “His Mother was Russian. Her surname was Bogrova.”

“Did you ever know her?”

“No, from what I remember? She died when he was a teenager. As far as the Lehane side of the family, my Grandfather might still be alive, but who knows.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Where was he, when you were sent to the orphanage?”

“I honestly don’t know, Krasivyy. He either didn’t want me, or was probably too drunk to remember he had a family. My vote is on the latter.”

“Alcoholic?”

“From what I remember of him? Yep.”

“Sorry, Gorgeous.”

“Don’t be. I never gave it much thought, even when it could’ve made a difference. My best guess, is he’s either dead, or in jail.”

Bruce nodded, but Faith could feel him emotions, which were rather easy to figure out. 

He was angry, upset, and hurt. 

But there was a tinge of vengeance there too, and it cause her to smirk at him. 

“Not worth it, Krasivyy.”

Bruce just chuckled and shook his head with fond exasperation.

“Never get tired of that.” He growled, pulling her into his body and kissing her soundly. “How is our little one doing today?” He queried with interest, as he pulled back. “Have you felt any movement yet?”

Ever since their appointment with Dr. Brooks a couple days before they’d left Gotham, and her assertion that before their next check-up, she would likely start to feel Damian moving...Bruce asked every morning like clockwork. 

“Not yet, _Mr. Impatient._ We do have an appointment for the 4-D sonogram next week. Maybe by then?”

Bruce lifted her into his body and walked over toward the couch, sitting down with her in his lap before his right hand immediately fell to her stomach. She smiled, as Bruce’s hand cupped her now swollen belly, and caressed it with purpose. 

“So what if I’m impatient?” He challenged finally, “You’re just as eager to feel Damian kick, as I am.”

“I am.” She sighed in defeat. “I’ve put on a few pounds too.”

“Yes you have, and it’s _very sexy.”_ He purred, causing Faith to giggle. 

“You just like that my boobs are bigger.”

Bruce winked unabashedly, “Not going to deny it, Gorgeous. Like I said last night, you look absolutely lush and tempting.”

“And you have a one track mind.”

“Sue me.”

A knock sounded on their door, and Bruce sighed but nodded to Roger, who was eyeing them both with an expression of almost fondness, before he went to let whomever their guest were...inside.

Faith glanced up and felt Buffy, before she saw her. John was right at her heels, shaking Roger’s hand. 

“Hey, B.”

“Hey. You two look cozy.”

“Thanks.” Faith quipped, but then her eyes narrowed as she felt several strange emotions coming from her sister Slayer. 

The most obvious one was...

...uncertainty.

“B? What’s going on?”

Buffy glanced back at John, and he sighed...then nodded. 

Turning back to Faith, Buffy opened her mind and asked...

_Do you think your room might be bugged?_

**You mean listening devices?**

_Yes._

**Shit. I didn’t even think that might be an issue, why? Do you think so?**

_I think we need to assume they are._

Faith broke eye contact and cupped Bruce’s head, and both Buffy and John could see their silent confab, and Bruce’s expression darkening as he too, obviously hadn’t considered that possibility. 

“I think that’s probably a safe assumption.” Was all he eventually said. 

“Great.” Faith deadpanned. “Anyway we could find out for sure?”

Bruce sighed, but went to stand up, placing his wife down on the couch as he moved back into their bedroom. A few moments later he came out with another cell phone, and placed it onto the coffee table. When Faith glanced down, her brow furrowed at the phone screen, that was pulsating with some kind of feedback. 

They all watched Bruce, take out his phone and scroll through a few things, enter in what looked to be a passcode, and then...the screen of the phone on the table started to scan the entirety of the room. 

Bruce watched for a few moments, and then pressed another button on his phone, and the secondary phone pulsed one last time, and shut down. 

“It’s clean.”

“How?” John asked with awe. 

“Proprietary tech, John.”

Faith smirked at her hubby, who grabbed the phone off the table and went back into their room to likely, put it back. When Bruce strolled out a moment later, he quickly took up his spot again by his wife. 

“Sorry, Gorgeous. I should’ve swept the room last night when we first got here.”

“It’s fine.” Faith replied softly. “Do I want to know what that was?”

“Something I developed myself, actually.”

“Excuse me?” John bit out. “ _You?”_

“Yes, John. I’m actually quite good at solving puzzles and while Lucius excels at what he does, much of the tech I utilize in my nocturnal job, I’ve invented and developed myself.”

“Shit.”

“Impressive.” Buffy piped in simultaneously. 

Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “Now that we’ve cleared up that issue, mind telling us why you’re both really here?”

“I’d like an answer to that, too.” Faith gave her sister Slayer a pointed look. “Did something happen?”

Buffy glanced at John, and he sighed—then bowed his head in the affirmative so Buffy forged ahead. 

“I spoke to Whistler last night.”

“Why?”

“What?”

Both Faith and Bruce had voiced their questions at the same time, which caused Buffy to grin. 

“Whistler,” Buffy explained, “is an emissary...”

“From the Powers, I know.” Bruce interrupted, and felt his wife’s hand on his arm. He turned to her and pulled her into his side, kissing her temple softly, before hazel eyes settled back on surprised green ones.

“How did you know?”

“It’s kinda personal, B.” Faith offered with a slight shrug. “Why did he come here?”

“Well,” Buffy swallowed uncomfortably, “I called him. Last night, John and I were discussing Miranda, and needless to say, even after everything, John has a good heart.”

“You think she’s suffered enough?” Faith bit out harshly, causing John to put his hands up placatingly. 

“I’ve received weekly updates from the clan leader, Salamin. Without delving into specifics, he’s let me know that Miranda has been dealt with. I suppose I just wanted to know how much longer her suffering would last.”

“I see,” Faith grit out, “and what did he say?”

“Soon.”

“That’s good then.” Faith’s voice was even, but Bruce could feel her irritation, as could Buffy. 

“I know you don’t agree, Faith,” Buffy admitted, “but it’s not up to us to decide when her time has come. That’s up to the Powers.”

“I know, B. Doesn’t mean I can’t still be furious for what happened to Violet.”

“I know.” 

“Was that all Whistler shared?” Faith demanded, feeling a sudden surge in Buffy’s emotions. 

“No.” Buffy shook her head, and felt John’s arm wrap around her shoulder. When she gazed up at him, he had that infuriating smirk on his face. Both Bruce and Faith appeared confused though. “Probably might help to give you both some context?”

“Okay.” Faith nodded. 

“When I found the Scythe but before I killed Caleb, I went to the graveyard in Sunnydale. Angel showed, when I was fighting Caleb, and after I killed him...Angel and me...well, we had a talk.”

“About?”

“Me, mostly. I told him essentially, that in the midst of all the insanity of my life, a few things were starting to actually make a lot of sense.”

“Such as?” Faith asked curiously.

“Well, why I could never make any of my relationships work. I used to think that it was because there something wrong with me. But then I realized, it was because I wasn’t supposed to.”

“I don’t get it,” Faith queried softly, “why would you assume that?”

“I was cookie dough.”

John chuckled, while Bruce cocked his head and Faith snorted in confusion. 

“That was my reaction when she first told me.” John admitted with a slight nudge towards his girlfriend. 

“Yeah, well...it works.” Buffy snarked. “I’d figured that eventually, once I’d moved past all the things I’d needed to do, I would be finished baking. I’d be done.”

“Dead?” Bruce asked lowly. 

“That was my thought as well.” John replied lowly. 

“And maybe that was true at one time, but not anymore. John convinced me that I needed to allow myself to be cookies, to show to the junior brigade that they don’t have to be just about the Slaying. That there is a life to be had, even in the midst of the craziness that comes with what we do. When I spoke with Whistler, he had a message for me from the Powers.”

“Which was?”

“Cookies.”

Faith’s eyes widened in shock, while Bruce leant forward with an expression of pure inquisitiveness. 

“They’re telling you, that your time in the field is done?” The Wayne Heir asked.

“Not exactly. They wanted me to know that I have a new mission to fulfill.”

“Excuse me?” Faith gritted out. “And just _what_ is this mission?”

Buffy’s gaze lowered to Faith’s stomach, and the brunette blanched, as did her husband. Faith’s hand instinctively covered her bump, and she wasn’t surprised when Bruce’s instantly covered hers. 

“We’ve talked about having a school for Slayer’s in Gotham. But something tells me, Faith...that it’s so much more than that. Perhaps the reasoning will be explained fully in time, but for _now?_ The Powers have made it clear to me that this here, where we are and your child, is something that will affect and shape everything in the future. I think you know it too.”

“We do.” Bruce spoke up for them both. 

Faith and Buffy made eye contact and Faith was the first to speak...

**How do you feel about that, B?**

_It’s fine, Faith. I’ve never really seen myself as mommy material and John can’t have kids of his own. Someday, Dawn will get married and maybe I’ll be an aunt. Zac is a good kid, and we have the junior brigade but I’m not opposed to being a supportive player in the life of your son._

**And if I were to tell you the Powers have shown me that Damian won’t be the only child Bruce and I will have?**

_How many?_

**Three**

_Boys?_

**Another son, and a daughter**

Buffy broke eye contact, and Faith noticed her sister Slayer’s face paling. 

“Are you serious?” Buffy whispered out in shock. 

“Yes, why?”

Buffy glanced up at Roger, and Faith could see and feel Buffy’s emotions...which were frankly, starting to scare her a bit. 

“B? Why is that a big deal?” 

Faith’s voice was elevated, and Bruce was quick to ascertain at least part of the issue. 

“Faith told you about her dream?”

Buffy nodded. 

Bruce extrapolated several scenarios, before he too, paled slightly. 

“There’s never been a child born to an active Slayer, has there?”

“No.” Roger piped in. “Nikki Wood gave birth _before_ she was called. She was eighteen at the time. She survived for four years until she was killed by Mr. Spike.”

“I’ve met Mr. Wood, fought him too. He was quite formidable.” Bruce then sat back and pondered something else before he spoke. “For my birthday, Faith had Whistler take me and I spoke with my parents. My Mom, well...” Bruce inhaled deeply, and he glanced at his wife, her expression confused and curious equally, so he directed his explanation to her, knowing the others would hear it and understand. “Gorgeous, when I was talking to my Mom, she told me that when Willow activated the Scythe in 2003? It activated all the potentials.”

“I know that, Krasivyy..”

“No, Gorgeous... _all of them._ Even those that had passed, whom had never received the call.”

Faith’s mouth dropped into a shocked ‘oh’ and Bruce could hear Buffy’s quick intake of breath. 

“Your Mom?”

“Yes.”

Faith beamed at her husband, a sentiment he fully returned. 

“This explains so much.” Roger interrupted, causing four sets of eyes to settle on him from where he was now sitting. “I had wondered when I first met with you both, if the reason the Slayers had been sent to Gotham had just as much to do with Miss Violet’s capture, as it did with the two of you.”

“Angel said they were _fated_.” John piped in, earning a glare from Wayne.

“I had wondered that myself.” Roger admitted hesitantly. “And it would seem that at least based on what we know so far, that supposition is likely.” 

“I don’t understand,” Faith sighed softly, “why this is such an issue?”

“As I stated, Faith, it has never been an issue only inasmuch as before 2003, Slayers didn’t tend to live long so having children wasn’t something that ever happened. Robin Wood, his mother being a Slayer, was able to train and fight alongside you in Sunnydale and afterwards. Mr Wayne trained with the League. I would imagine, much of their skills in fighting were inherited from their mother’s being potentials, but your child will be born to an actual active Slayer. Therefore, there is no telling what their potential might be.”

“Children.” Faith corrected. 

“Excuse me?”

“Slayer dream. When Bruce and I were on our honeymoon, I had a Slayer Dream. I saw my children, all three of them. Damian, Michael and Zarina.”

“A girl?” Roger swallowed heavily and Faith nodded. 

“ _Unprecedented_.”

“In what way?” Bruce asked seriously, and Roger had to admit, this was something he hadn’t envisioned.

“Mind you, this might be speculation, but it is possible by activating the Scythe, and all the potentials, that you also inadvertently changed how Slayers would be called going forward.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, until Buffy surmised, “Only girls born to active Slayers, would have the potential going forward?”

“It’s possible.” Roger admitted. “From what Rupert has shared, only himself and Miss Rosenberg know for sure how many potentials exist right now. If a Slayer potential dies, it begs the question how another would be called if the full line of potentials have been activated. Therefore, the Powers would have to logically, seek out an alternative source for the line of potentials. How better to do that than from those who already have the power?”

Faith stared down at her swollen stomach and bit her lip hard. As much as she would teach her children to become warriors, the fact that her own daughter might not be given a choice rankled somewhat. 

“So Zarina might not have a choice?” She whispered out sadly.

“Gorgeous?”

“Don’t, Bruce.” Faith shook her head at her husband. “I know I shouldn’t be shocked by this, but I am. Not just for myself—but what do I tell Rona? You know that she and Bart are actually thinking about trying for a family at some point in the next couple of years. If she has a girl, how do you think that’s going to go over?”

“Probably they’ll be shocked, like we are,” Bruce soothed deeply, “but it makes sense, right? How can Zarina be anything else but extraordinary like her Mother. Would you prefer she not be trained?”

“No! I want all of our children to be able to be warriors.”

“Then what difference does it make, Gorgeous? If this is to be our daughter’s destiny, then she’ll be formidable and strong. Either way, she won’t be alone. She’ll have us, Buffy, Willow, Rona, Violet and I’d imagine Angel will look out for her too. I think if anything, maybe we were a bit shortsighted. You did mention to me that you’d suspected Damian might have some gifts of his own, right?”

“I did.”

“And my parents confirmed a few things too. I think we’re very lucky to have this knowledge now. That way we can make a plan.”

Faith grinned. “You and your plans, Krasivyy.”

“Sue me. I’m a man who likes having a plan.”

Nodding in agreement, Faith glanced at her sister Slayer and said simply, “So, Slayer academy?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking that’s a good idea.”

“Bruce is having Angel help him set up the caverns under the Manor once the construction of Wayne Manor is done.”

Buffy turned to Bruce and he nodded. “The caverns are extensive. Over 12000 square feet, which will have enough room for my things, and whatever you need. I’m having a customized dojo built inside, and I’m sure we can add additional things as needed. Wayne Manor sits on 150 acres of protected land. So again, there’s plenty of room to expand if we need to.”

“Your lair was under your Manor?” John snarked without heat, “Where is it now?”

“Wayne Dockyards.” Bruce replied easily. 

“So that tank thing?”

“Yes. As well as a few other things. I’ve just finished a prototype for a new kind of close quarters combat aerial helicopter. Lucius affectionately calls it _The Bat.”_

“You built it yourself?” John sat back, stunned.

“More or less. The schematics I designed with Lucius help, but the autopilot system was all me.”

Faith giggled at how smug her hubby looked at that moment. 

“You didn’t tell me this, Krasivyy.”

“I didn’t think you’d be interested, Gorgeous. What do you think I do with the majority of my time when I go to work? Lucius runs the company fairly well, which gives me plenty of time to develop my ideas.”

“Like your little bat sonar phone?”

“Yes.”

“Huh, I guess that makes sense.”

John just gave Wayne an inscrutable look, but wisely didn’t comment while Buffy was more amused than anything. 

“Boys and their toys.” She quipped, causing Faith to snort out a laugh, and John to chuckle too. Bruce however, just lifted a mocking eyebrow but didn’t comment. 

“Shouldn’t we be getting down to brunch.” Bruce asked Roger, who nodded. 

“We should.” 

When they got downstairs, the dining room was filled with many of their guests. The first person Faith noticed was Blair, who was quick to come over. 

“There you are!”

“Hey, Blair.”

The two women kissed on the cheeks in greeting. 

“I’m excited for today.”

“Me too, it’ll be interesting to actually see the places that Roger has had me studying about this past month.”

Eleanor, Cyrus and Lari came over and said hello, as well as Lily, William, Serena and Eden. 

Vladim was also in attendance, with Oksana and Igor. 

Yevgeny and Ivan would be meeting them at their destination. 

“So, Nickolayevna, what have you learned about the Alexander Palace?”

“Well, I know it was commissioned by Catherine the Great and the architect Giacomo Quarenghi designed it in the neoclassical style. It was also believed to be the favorite home of my Prapraded, and it was also the place where he and his family were held as prisoners.”

“It was.”

Faith bit her lip and nodded, her expression emotionless. She had wondered why Vladim had chosen this particular palace as her first official site, and had suspected the reasoning behind it. 

Seems she was right. 

She could sense his smugness too, which made her want to grit her teeth and punch him. 

“Well, I’m sure it will be educational.” Faith responded evenly. “There’s a lot of history to get through.”

Vlad chuckled and nodded, gesturing for them to take their seats so brunch could be served. 

“Russia is filled with history. Much of that history is littered with bloodshed.”

“I think all countries can make that assertion.” Faith quipped blithely, “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of a completely bloodless revolution. Usually, the people are pretty vocal when they cry out for change.”

“That is true.” Vlad responded, waving to the wait staff as food was served. “Sometimes change is necessary.”

“Yep.” Faith smiled brightly at the server who brought her Orange Juice. He seemed a bit flummoxed, but she just chirped a happy, _thank you_ , causing Bruce to grin inwardly. “It can be. Although in the States we have a term called _Buyer’s Remorse._ Are you familiar with it?”

“No, I don’t believe I’ve heard of that terminology.”

John shook his head, while Bruce couldn’t help the smile that threatened to break free. 

“Well, the term is one that’s used in business a lot. Like, say you have the choice between two equally attractive, or unattractive items you want to buy. You can’t choose, so you make a choice based more on emotion—thinking that one is better than the other. It’s only when you discover that the purchase wasn’t quite what you were expecting, that you end up having buyer’s remorse. I think life is like that a lot. We think something sounds better on paper, but later on we realize that maybe it wasn’t as cool as we’d pictured it to be.” 

Faith could sense the emotions of a few of the people around her. Vlad however, seemed to be both amused and irritated. 

“Anything specific you have in mind?”

“Oh, well...” Faith scrunched up her face, pretending to think really hard about that. After a moment she shrugged and replied cheerily, “I’ve never had much in the way of money or anything really, until recently. And what I did have, I tended to be careful with what I chose to spend my money on. I’m still that way. Bruce calls me out on it all the time, right Krasivyy?”

“I do, Gorgeous. You’re quite adorable too.” Bruce then smirked and said, “She’s become quite the environmental activist, Premier.”

“Oh?”

“Well, yeah.” Faith nodded in agreement. “It’s an important issue. I mean I’m not super political, never have been but I think there are things that are important to most people.”

“Such as?”

“Well, being able to feed their families, having a roof over their head and in general—having a safe place to call their own. I didn’t have any of those things growing up, after my Mom died. Growing up in the orphanage, it wasn’t exactly a safe place to be. Are there orphanages here in St. Petersburg?”

“Yes.” Vladim replied, his response a bit stilted. 

“Would it be possible to visit one while I’m here?”

Darkened eyes settled on her’s and Faith could tell he was taking his measure of her request, and how best he could work it to his advantage. 

After a moment he nodded slowly. “I do think we can make that happen.”

“Cool, Vlad! You’re the best!”

The man chuckled deeply, his expression morphing into his more amused one. 

“I’m so glad you think so, Nickolayevna. Was there anything else you had wanted to see whilst you were here?”

“I don’t know? I mean, I’ve read a bit on the history of Russia and St. Petersburg, but being here now? I know there’s probably a lot of stuff that I wouldn’t think of unless I got to see it first.”

Vladim nodded thoughtfully. “Well, if you wanted to extend your visit for a few days, I’m sure we can show a bit more of the country.”

“Really?” Faith piped up, as she could feels Bruce’s amusement at Vlad walking right into her little trap. “That’d be cool. Maybe Moscow?”

“We can see.”

“Sure.”

Once brunch was done, everyone made their way to the outside of the hotel, where the press had gathered as well as many people. When Faith emerged, there were cheers and some people were calling out her name. She smiled and waved enthusiastically, while Bruce kept her close to his side. 

It took them about forty minutes to make their way to Alexander’s Palace, and once they’d arrived, Faith wasn’t surprised to see that there was another contingent of Press, as well as more people.   
  
Ivan and Yevgeny were there as well as a few other people she didn’t recognize.

As before, she waved to the crowds and allowed Vladim to lead both she and Bruce towards the entrance of the palace. 

The beautiful white stone columns and yellow edifice of the exterior beckoned in welcome, and as Faith was led to the left staircase, leading into the main entryway, he breath hitched at how utterly massive this palace was. 

“We will start in the western wing of the palace,” Vladim intoned deeply, “and make our way to the eastern wing, which was the living quarters for the Imperial Family.”

Faith nodded, and felt Bruce’s hand settle over her arm, which was curled around his, as they made their way inside. 

Eventually followed by all their guests. 

Faith glanced around in profound awe, her gaze settling on several of the portraits and glass cases of precious items, that clearly once belonged to her ancestors. 

Their first stop was in the semi-circular hall and then the marble drawing room. 

“As you can see, there are some of the original pieces that remain. Some of the palaces were ransacked after the revolution, and many of the items were taken.” Vladim waved across the room towards the hearth. “Through that door to the left, is the portrait hall.”

As they followed, Vlad shared his knowledge of the history of Alexander Palace, when it was built and whom had lived their previously. 

“The Alexander Palace, was built by Tsarina Catherine II, for her favorite grandson, The Grand Duke, Alexander Pavlovich, who would eventually ascend to Tsar. The palace took four years to build, and was considered quite the architectural achievement of the day.”

He led them into the portrait gallery, and Faith glanced around at all the paintings of her ancestors. 

“This was a ceremonial room at one time,” Vladim continued on, “over here are portraits of Nicholas I, and his four sons...over here we have a painting of Alexander I, and at the end is an official portrait of Catherine the Great.”

Faith walked along the room, as the weight of everyone’s gazes were solely upon her. As she stared up into the face of Nicholas I, she could hear Vlad reciting some of the history that Roger had shared with her of her ancestors views on the Jews, then on to the Crimean War...

...as she stared up at the portrait, Faith felt a sense of sadness wash over her. Alexander’s reign, had been the beginning of the end for her family. His failed policies, and lack of understanding had started a chain reaction that had seen the downfall of her prapraded decades later. It was hard to wrap her mind around, and part of her wondered if they had seen the end coming...

But it was the assassination of his son, Alexander II, that had placed the final nail in the coffin...

_Gorgeous?_

Faith sighed and glanced over to her right, seeing Bruce staring down at her with a worried frown marring his face. 

**I’m fine, just a bit overwhelmed.**

_Understandable_.

**How do I do this, Bruce? How do I fix what’s been broken for so long?**

_I don’t know, Gorgeous. Perhaps we just take a step at a time, and hope that the Powers will show you what needs to be done. This isn’t a sprint, right?_

**No, you’re right.**

He took her arm within his, and followed Vlad as he continued through the palace. Faith asked a few questions here and there, but for the most part just listened to what Vladim had to say. Some of it was new information, as Roger hadn’t been able to impart everything necessary, but enough to give her a general sense of what her family history entailed. 

When they moved out of the Alexander Palace and made their way to the Catherine Palace, Faith’s breath hitched as she got her first real view of the stately home. 

“It’s huge!”

“It was completed in 1756, and is nearly 1km in circumference, with elaborately decorated blue-and-white facades featuring gilded atlantes, caryatids and pilasters designed by German sculptor Johann Franz Dunker. He worked with Bartholomeo Rastrelli on the palace's original interiors. Catherine’s daughter, Elizabeth—had over 100 kilograms of gold used to decorate the palace exteriors, an excess that was deplored by Catherine the Great when she discovered the state and private funds that had been lavished on the building.

The interiors of the Golden Enfilade of state rooms, designed by Rastrelli, was particularly renowned and formed the focus of the palace tour. We will enter via the State Staircase which, although it blends effortlessly with the rococo grandeur of Rastrelli's interiors, dates from the 1860s. With its ornate banisters and reclining marble cupids, it seeks to give a taste of what is to come. The Great Hall, also known as the Hall of Light, measures nearly 1,000 square meters, and occupies the full width of the palace so that there are superb views on both sides. The large arched windows provide spectacular lighting to relieve the vast quantity of gilded stucco decorating the walls, and the entire ceiling is covered by a monumental fresco entitled _The Triumph of Russia._ The White Dining Room is equally luxurious but, like many of the rooms in the palace, its grandeur is softened by the presence of a beautiful traditional blue-and-white tiled stove in the corner. The Amber Room, which is by far the most spectacular room within the palace, was refurbished back in 1982.”

They were walking through the gardens and up the steps towards the palace proper, as Vlad was sharing this information, and Faith glanced over her shoulder, to their guests, who were taking in the sights with profound awe. 

Once inside, Faith was quick to note some of the other interesting rooms, like the Cameron Rooms, Green Dining Room and the Chinese Blue Drawing Room. 

“I’ve noticed that a lot of the palaces use color themes to denote certain rooms.”

“Yes,” Vlad nodded, “a common practice, even within other noblesse around Europe’s more distinctive palaces. I do believe the British Monarch has a few of her more noted rooms named thusly.”

“Are all the palaces museums?”

“Most of them are.” Vlad smirked. “The Vorontsov Palace is utilized as a Military school. The Winter Palace is the most notable of all the palaces and was the main residence of the ruling family.”

“The Hermitage.”

“One and the same, yes.”

Faith nodded. 

“Is there a lot of tourism income generated from the palaces?”

“Quite a bit.” Vladim replied, his voice held a tinge of something Faith couldn’t define. “We generate probably fifty million per annum in tourism.”

“What does the royal family in Britain generate?”

Faith wasn’t unaware that all the conversations behind them had halted, and everyone was listening in eagerly. 

“Estimates somewhere around $400 Million that the royal family generates in tourism.”

“So about ten times more?”

“About that, yes.”

“How do you _feel_ about that?” Faith asked curiously, and she could feel Bruce’s amusement. “I mean, I’ve seen pictures of Buckingham Palace, and their other palaces too. But look at this!” She twirled around with a huge smile on her face, causing everyone watching to chuckle and grin, “This is amazing! So much history, too! Sure it’s a bit much, to see how my ancestors lived...but if this can be put to better use, to bring some needed revenue to Russia? Maybe it’s something to consider, _right?”_

Vlad’s expression was amused, even if Faith could sense his irritation and suspicion. Buffy could feel several emotions too, from some of Vlad’s Ministers...but the overriding one was curiosity mixed with intrigue. 

“We don’t have a ruling class, Nickolayevna.”

“True, but there’s got to be a compromise, right? I would think my heritage being outed, would bring more interest to Russia, and that’s not a bad thing, right? This weekend is all about that too. All I’m suggesting is for you to consider it. I’d be happy to help. I think, it would be a good thing for other countries to see what Russia has to offer.”

“Are you offering to be an Ambassador?”

“I thought you had to be born in a country to be an Ambassador?”

Bruce smirked, and he was quick to note the surprised, pleased expressions on the faces of those present. 

“It does work better that way.”

“Huh, well...” Faith bit her lip and shrugged helplessly, “maybe we can think of something, right?”

“Perhaps, Nickolayevna.”

“Cool.”

No more was said on the subject, but for the rest of the afternoon, Bruce was quick to note that a few of Vlad’s advisors were a bit more receptive to speaking with Faith and asking her questions.

A fact that Vlad didn’t miss either, if his sharp gaze was any indication.


	86. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart and Rona spend time on their honeymoon.

They’d been on the island for a week, and in that time, Bart and Rona had slept, ate, surfed and fucked each other...not into a coma...but it wasn’t a far stretch to state that they’d reached levels of blissful unconsciousness...

_Currently the score was Bart—2 and Rona—3..._

Which wasn’t to say that Bart wasn’t currently trying his level best to even the score at any given available opportunity.

“Who knew you were this competitive?” Rona moaned out, her body covered in sweat and the smell of sex was heavy within their room. It was about three in the morning, and she’d just had her eighth orgasm of the night...

“ _You did,_ little girl.” Bart hummed, as he pounded into his wife’s delicious body, the cock ring he’d put on helping his already impressive stamina even more.

Rona arched her neck and hummed in desperation when her husband’s teeth clamped down on her pulse point and bit into her with just enough force, that it caused a breathy whine to break free, from her parched lips. 

“Are you close?”

“Yes...”

“Good.”

And as if he’d finally been given permission, Rona gasped when Bart’s cadence picked up even harder, her legs were settled on his shoulders, her body nearly bent in half—body shaking in preparation for what was to come...

And she knew it was going to be explosive!

The second her climax hit, her eyes rolled back into her head...her entire body shuddering and a wave of blackness over took her...

It was only for a moment, but it had been enough. 

When she came to, it was to her hubby still shallowly pumping his hips into hers—he hadn’t come yet...and he had a wicked smirk on his chiseled face...

Then he started up in earnest again and five minutes later?

_She was out..._

The next morning, when she awoke—it was to the smiling face of a one, _Bart fucking Bass,_ grinning down at her like the cat who’d gotten the cream. 

“Get that look off your face, Rich Man.”

“I don’t think so, my sweet girl. I revised our score board last night. It would seem since I’m in the lead, we get to spend the day doing what I’d like to do.”

“Huh, but we’ve surfed and fucked all week? What more is there?”

Her reply was impish, and Bart chuckled at his wife’s audacity, even if the predatory gleam in his eyes belied his own good humor. 

“I was thinking we could take the boat, and head to Martinique or St. Lucia? Take in a few of the sites?”

“Really?” Rona perked up. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Bart smiled and kissed her softly. “Let’s go take a shower and get some breakfast.”

Rona allowed her husband to help her out of their bed, and after a luxurious shower and a breakfast of fresh fruit and danish, they were on their way to Martinique. 

“Have you been here before?” Rona asked as Fort de France harbor came into view. 

“A few times. St. Lucia too.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, little girl. While I enjoy my solitude far too much, I try and make it a point to visit at least once during my time here. I have a few haunts I enjoy, and the locals are kind. One of the shoppe owners, where I’ve picked up supplies, and the family who takes care of the island for me when I’m gone, live here on Martinique.”

“Do they have a name?”

“Barrois. Phillipe and Elodie. They have two children, Axelle and Mauranne.”

“Do you speak French?”

“I do.”

“Impressionnant. Tu te souviens que ma mère parlait français, non?”

(Impressive. You do remember that my Mom spoke french, right?)

“I remember, Rona. Evelyn’s mother was French too, so she was a native speaker. Evelyn spent two years in Paris with your Mother, before we’d married. I do believe that your maternal grandmother and Evelyn’s were friends. Hence, how they were so close.” Bart’s expression fell for a split second, and Rona gripped his arm in support. 

“I didn’t know that.” Rona admitted softly, “You don’t like talking about her, why is that?”

Bart sighed. “It’s not that I don’t like it, sweet girl. It’s just that I’ve often wondered if I could’ve been a better husband to her.”

“Did you love her?”

“I cared deeply for Evelyn. She was kind, thoughtful, beautiful...and patient. More patient than I deserved. She never asked for more than I could give, and she knew about Diana, which you know. I had been devastated after my break up with Diana. I spent years, racking my mind around what I’d done to cause her to cheat on me. It wasn’t until right before Evelyn gave birth to Chuck, that I’d finally came to terms with a few things, but by then it was too late. Evelyn, to her credit? She never chastised me, nor did she make me feel lesser than for keeping a part of myself closed off from her. I honestly think that part of the reason I’d never allowed myself to fall in love with Evelyn while she was alive, was because I knew her illness would eventually take her life, and I was afraid if I gave into my feelings? I wouldn’t have survived it and wouldn’t been able to take care of my Son.”

“My Dad said she’d had a couple miscarriages?”

“Yes. Early on in her pregnancies, and I’d all but given up hope when she’d finally gotten pregnant with Chuck. It wasn’t until we knew the pregnancy was viable and she’d carry to term, that she admitted to me that she wouldn’t likely survive. I was livid for days, but she was so stubborn and refused to discuss it. She told me that she was on borrowed time anyway, and at least I wouldn’t be left alone.”

“She sounds like an amazing woman.”

Bart smiled and nodded. “She really was. I just wish I had told her when it’d counted.”

“I’m sure she knows, Bart.”

“You don’t talk about you Mom, either...little girl.”

“I know. It’s not hard to talk about her, even though I still miss her so much. It’s just hard to think about what happened afterwards, with my Dad. How different he’d become. I didn’t recognize him anymore.”

“Rona...”

“It’s fine, Rich Man.” She shushed him, as he docked their boat and helped her out onto the wooden walkway that led into the main port authority building. “Bad stuff happens to all of us. Some of us have worse shit than others. When I look at what Faith had to deal with as a kid growing up, it makes me remember that for all my heartache in losing my mom? At least I didn’t have to witness my Dad killing my Mom and then killing himself. I wasn’t sent off to an orphanage, and I didn’t have some homicidal maniac trying to fuck with my life.”

“Excuse me?”

“Jack Napier, the Joker? He was in the orphanage with Faith. Tried to rape her when she was twelve. She gave him part of his scars, and he tried to ruin her life. Too much detail to get into it, and it’s really not my story to tell, Bart. But suffice it to say, that Faith has gone through more than her fair share of shit.”

Bart didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. They finally made their way into the small customs area, handed over their passports and within fifteen minutes...were on their way to see the island proper. 

“Can I ask a question?” He said at last. 

“Sure.”

“Have you ever had a Slayer dream?”

“No.” Rona shook her head emphatically. “I do get feelings about things, like I did that night you and my Dad were attacked. But Buffy and Faith are the only two who have a direct line to the Powers. From what I’ve been led to understand, both of them talk directly with the Powers Emissary. He’s a child of a pure demon and the Powers. He has the gift of true foresight.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yes. His name is Whistler.”

Whatever she’d been expecting, Rona was fairly certain the short man, with the black leather jacket and bowler hat, calling her name... _wasn’t it..._

“Miss Steward.”

Rona stopped and turned, her eyes narrowing at the man who’d addressed her. 

“Do I know you?”

“You _called_ for me?”

Rona blanched, and Bart’s face paled. 

“I’m _sorry?”_

“Whistler. How do you do?” He bowed, and Rona’s mouth dropped open, while Bart just coughed out uncomfortably.

“How?”

The balance demon grinned, and then gestured for them to walk with him. 

“Perhaps it wasn’t exactly your intention, and I do suppose I did have the choice to ignore the call...but let’s just say I was _intrigued_.”

Rona shook her head, before her amber eyes glittered in challenge. 

“How do I know, that you are whom you say you are?”

Whistler chuckled deeply. “Very good, Slayer. How indeed? I’m surprised you don’t recognize me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Rona, are you telling me you don’t _remember?”_

Feeling Bart’s arm tightening around her waist, Rona stared at the small man, her brain desperately trying to remember where or when, she’d seen him previously...

...when it hit her like a ton of bricks!

“The day of my Mother’s funeral. You were there, at the gravesite.”

“I was. We spoke. Do you remember what I told you?”

“ ** _Life will undertake to separate us, and we must each set off in search of our own path, our own destiny and our own way of facing death.”_**

“Yes. You have forged your own path, carved out your own destiny, and have faced death. Tell me, Rona Steward? Do you understand yet, the power _inside of you?”_

“I think so.”

“Oh? Do you embrace it, accept it, with all its light and darkness?”

“Of course I do.”

“And when the time comes, to pass on what you’ve learned? Will you do it willingly?”

Rona frowned in confusion. “Sure. I can teach other potentials.”

Whistler shook his head. “The greatest potential, _lies within you..._ Rona Steward.” He then turned to Bart and said seriously, “You support her calling?”

“I do.”

“Then remember this moment, for when the time comes? You will be reminded of your promise, and held accountable to your actions, _or lack of them._..Bart Bass.”

Bart scowled, but Whistler just chuckled again. 

Then he was gone. 

Rona stared at the spot where Whistler had just been, her expression contemplative, while Bart gripped her into his side, and whispered lowly, “What do you think that was all about?”

“I honestly don’t know.” She admitted softly. Gripping her phone, she turned it on and on instinct, dialed the first person she knew, would likely have some answers for her. 

Thankfully, she picked up on the third ring. 

“Hey, kiddo? What’s going on?”

“Am I bothering you?”

“No. I’m at a dinner party right now, and excused myself for a few minutes. What’s going on?”

“I just had a visitor.”

“Excuse me?” Faith’s voice was short, “Aren’t you on a private island in the middle of the ocean with your husband?”

“We were. We’re on Martinique right now.”

“Rona, I never got through World Geography in school, so forgive me if I have no clue what that means. You’re still in the Bahamas?”

“Yeah,” she giggled lightly, and Bart smirked as he too, heard Faith’s comment. “Whistler was here.”

The silence on the phone was deafening, and it was at least a good thirty seconds before Faith spoke up again. 

“He’s been getting around lately.”

“What?”

“Long story, kiddo. What did he want?”

“Well, I’ve actually met him before. My Mom’s funeral, but I didn’t remember until today. He said something about passing on what I’ve learned and the greatest power laying inside of me.”

There was another measure of silence, and then Rona heard Faith sigh. 

“Listen, kiddo? It’s clear we need to talk, but now is not the time to have this convo. Trust me, that I’ll tell you everything when you get back and enjoy your honeymoon, okay?”

“Alright. Should I be worried?”

“That’s not for me to say. You happy?”

“Very.”

“Then tell that husband of yours, that I’ll expect him to keep you happy. And if he fucks this up? **I’m coming after him.** He’ll understand it more, after we talk, okay?”

“I’ll let him know. How’s Russia?”

“Five by five. Stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Brat.”

“Whatever.”

“Gotta bounce.”

“Alright. Thanks.”

“Anytime, kiddo. You know that.”

And the line went dead. 

Rona put her phone back in her pocket and glanced up and her husband, who’s expression was thoughtful. 

“She knows, doesn’t she?”

“I think she does. She also told me to tell you that you need to keep me happy, and if you fuck it up, she’s coming after you.”

“She did tell me that already, little girl.”

“No,” Rona shook her head, “this is something _else_. When I asked her if I should be worried, she told me that wasn’t for her to comment on. So whatever this is? Faith knows it’s something life altering, something that she’s worried you’re not going to handle well. Even Whistler indicated as such, when he’d made that comment about your actions, or lack thereof.”

Bart frowned, as he took his wife’s hand and they walked further into town. 

“Okay, but what would be so life altering, that it would have Faith worried that I’d hurt you?”

Rona shrugged and said simply, “Dunno. But let’s table it for now? Maybe the answer will come later? If nothing else, Faith knows so I suppose we’ll just have to be patient?”

“Not a virtue I’m know for, little girl.”

“Eh, you’ll make do.”

He chuckled. “Come on, there’s a great place for food just up the hill. Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

They took a taxi to Le Diamant and walked for a bit until they got to the Rue des Arawaks, and the XO Bistro which was right near the water. 

“This looks nice.”

“Best food on the Island.” Bart nodded, smiling at the owner when he walked inside. 

They were seated immediately, and the owner’s wife came over to greet them. 

“Bonjour, Monsieur Bass. Nous saluons le retour! Et qui est cette charmante dame?”

(Hello, Mr. Bass. welcome back! And who is this lovely lady?)

“Bonjour Chantale, voici ma femme, Rona.”

(Hello Chantale, this is my wife, Rona)

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise, and then her face beamed with pleasure. 

“Toutes nos félicitations! Êtes-vous en lune de miel?”

(Congratulations! Are you on your honeymoon?)

“Oui. Permettez-moi de vous présenter officiellement tous les deux. Chantale, c'est Rona. Mon amour, cette dame ici est Chantale Fontaine.”

(Yes. Allow me to formally introduce you both. Chantale, this is Rona. My love, this lady here is Chantale Fontaine)

Rona smiled and nodded. “C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer Madame. C'est un endroit charmant que vous avez.”

  
(It is a pleasure to meet you madam. This is a lovely place you have)

“Je suis également ravi de vous rencontrer. Cela fait du bien à cette vieille femme de voir celle-ci enfin mariée. Il est seul depuis trop longtemps.”

(I'm pleased to meet you as well. It does this old woman's heart well to see this one finally married off. He's been alone for far too long)

Rona giggled, while Bart just huffed in good humor. 

“Pas de prise sur moi, mesdames.”

(No picking on me, ladies)

“Nous ne faisons aucune promesse.” Chantale winked, causing Rona to laugh a bit harder.

(We make no promises)

Chantale then shared the specials for the day, and Rona chose the Risoto de Gambas, while Bart picked the Duo de Gambas Coco Curry. The food came soon afterwards, as did the rum cocktails they’d ordered. When Rona took her first bite of her dish, she moaned in appreciation, causing Bart to smirk wickedly. 

“Those sounds are mine, little girl.”

“Sure. But seriously? This is yummy!”

“Told you. Best food on the island.”

Conversation was light, as Bart told her some of the history of Martinique and its people. Rona listened avidly, asked a few questions and before they knew it, Bart was paying for their food and with a final hug and wave goodbye, they made their way back towards Fort de France.

The rest of the afternoon was spent walking and perusing the local fare, that by the time they’d made their way back to their boat, it was getting time to return to their island. 

“We can visit St. Lucia another day.”

“That’s fine.”

The boat ride was about an hour, and once docked and back in their little slice of heaven, Bart grabbed his wife and they curled up on their favorite lounger, the fire in the pit now warming the area a bit. 

“That was a nice idea.” Rona said after a while. 

“It was. I adore Martinique. It’s very low key and the people there are kind and easy going. They love life, and live in the moment. It’s refreshing, for someone like me who’s always been moving from one thing to the next, with a singular purpose. I don’t think, I’ve ever just stopped and let myself be, in a very long time.”

“Really?”

“Really, my sweet girl.”

“Bart?”

“Yes?”

Rona sat up and stared down at her husband with a curious expression. 

“Can I ask an intrusive question, that I’ve always wondered about?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why in the world did you marry, the tart?”

Bart chuckled, as he smirked up at his wife. 

“You’re serious?”

“Of course.”

A lifted eyebrow belied his rather docile expression, but after a moment he said simply, “I was _lonely_ , Rona. When your Mother died, and I saw what Robert was going through? It brought back so many memories of my time with Evelyn. There was guilt there too. I met Misty about six months after your Mother’s funeral at a gallery opening in Chelsea. She was funny, bright...and had a lot of energy. It sucked me in for a time. We’d been seeing each other for two years, on and off...and one night we got into a fight about something? She gave me an ultimatum, and Chuck seemed to like her well enough, so I thought, why not? I wrote up a prenup, and proposed a week later. She signed it, with no fuss...which looking back on it now? Should’ve been a red flag. The first year of our marriage was rather good. But like I’ve always done, I allowed Chuck and my work to take precedence. I want to say I was surprised by her affair with Thorpe, but looking back on it now? I think she was just starved for the attention I wasn’t paying to her, plus I hadn’t told her I’d gotten a vasectomy prior to our marriage. When she’d found out? Well, let’s just say things changed.”

“Did your prenup give her an out if you’d had children?”

“Not exactly. There was no provision for it.”

“That’s why she signed it without complaint. She’d figured she’d trap you with a kid.”

Bart hummed, but didn’t reply to her assertions, all he’d asked was, “Why are you curious about her?”

“Just was.”

Barts gaze narrowed, as he sat up and cupped her cheeks firmly, biting out, “This is _more_ than just causal curiosity, Rona.”

“Maybe?” She bit her lip, even as she tried to avert her gaze. 

“What am I _missing?”_

“It’s nothing, Rich Man.”

“Oh?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t _lie_ to me, Rona. What aren’t you telling me?”

Rona blushed, and the heat of her face was hard to miss as Bart tilted her head up to him, his grey gaze scope-locked on her, until his expression bloomed into a feral grin. 

“Really? _You spied on us?”_

Rona coughed out uncomfortably and squirmed, trying to pull away, but Bart wasn’t having any of it. His face was alight with mischief. 

“Why you little, minx. How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Rona!”

“What!” She gritted out. “You two _weren’t_ very subtle, nor quiet about it!”

She went to move away, but Bart pulled her more firmly into his lap and gripped her chin harder. 

“No, I don’t imagine we were, Rona. But still? How much did you _see?”_

“Enough.”

“And?”

Amber eyes glistened with fire as she gazed into his eyes, and he could see several other emotions playing out. 

There was jealousy, of course...

But there was hurt, anger, intrigue, curiosity and possessiveness too. 

“What do you want me to say, Rich Man? I’d heard you both, and I was curious. I didn’t expect to see what I did, and frankly? I wasn’t paying attention to _her...”_

He shook his head with fond amusement. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or horrified, Rona! _You were fourteen!”_

“Yeah, well...” she cleared her throat, “I left the next morning, and went back to school early. I knew I wouldn’t be able to face anyone the next day, and I was afraid you’d know by looking at me. So I bailed.”

“Understandable.”

“Whatever.”

Bart shook his head. “My perfect girl, let me make one thing very clear. What I had with the tart, pales in comparison to what we share. Rona, I love you. In all the time I was with my ex, I never said those words to her. Never even felt them. I cared for her, and yes...I suppose I desired her too. But this, what we have? Is so much more than I’ve ever experienced in my life with anyone, even Evelyn. I did love Evelyn, looking back on it now, I can admit it. But I never told her, when it mattered. It’s my biggest regret. I won’t make those same mistakes with you.”

“And if we have children?”

“Rona, if the Powers bless us with children, I will love them as fiercely as I love Chuck. Whether we have one, or two...or more? They’ll be strong warriors, like their Mother.”

Rona smiled softly, and then her expression fell, as her eyes widened in stunned realization. 

“Little girl, what is it?”

“Shit, I think I’ve figured out what Whistler meant.”

Bart swallowed heavily and queried with trepidation, “And that would _be?”_

“The Power laying _inside of me.”_

She grabbed her stomach and in that moment, Bart paled. 

“Impossible! Rona! I’m _sterile_.”

“You’re sure? You checked your sperm count after you had the procedure?”

“I did.”

“Okay?” She nodded slowly. “You do know that vasectomies can in rare cases, spontaneously reverse, right?”

Bart’s head whipped back in shock. “ _That’s not possible.”_

“Oh, yes it is.”

He shook his head, as he stood up awkwardly and went to grab his laptop. A few moments later and a couple of clicks on his computer, had Bart paling even further. 

“Recanalization can, in rare cases, happen years after a vasectomy has been done.”

“Told you.”

Bart’s grey eyes were heated as he glared at his wife. “Rona? When is the last time you’ve had a period?”

“I take the Depo shot, so it was a while ago.”

“And when is the last time you had your shot?”

Rona bit her lip and shrugged. “Honestly, I had it just before the last time I had sex. After that time, I’d figured it didn’t exactly matter, as I wasn’t planning on being sexually active again. At least, not for a while. When we got together, I’d remembered about your vasectomy, and we used condoms.”

“Not the entire night, Rona!”

“Okay, so we didn’t. _But you said you were safe!_ ” She stood up and screeched. “Why do men always pull this bullshit!? Thinking it’s the woman’s job to take care of the birth control!”

“That’s not what I’m saying here, Rona.”

“Sure it’s not. News flash, Rich Man. We’re _married!”_ She lifted up her hand, where her wedding band was located. “Or are you regretting it already?”

Bart’s expression darkened. “Don’t put words into my mouth, Rona. _You don’t get to do that!_ How am I supposed to take this? I’ve been having sex for _years_...and it’s never been an issue!”

“Oh my God! You’re fucking pissing me off! Firstly, we don’t know I’m pregnant and secondly, did you expect all the women you’ve fucked over the years to be the responsible ones?”

“I’ve never had unprotected sex before you!” He roared. “ _So, no!”_

“Well, bully for you!”

She turned around and made to leave, but he reached for her and grabbed her arm. 

“Don’t you _dare_ walk away from this conversation, Rona.”

“This isn’t a conversation, Bart. Before we got married, did you, or did you not— _promise me that I could have anything I’d wanted from you?”_

Bart sighed, as he ran both hands through his hair. “I did.”

“Well, then either you _lied_ , or you’re having second thoughts. In either case, I can’t be around you right now.”

She pushed off him, and before he could stop her...Rona vaulted over the wall and down the embankment, which was a fifteen foot drop easily. When Bart rushed over to the edge, to look for her?

She was gone. 

“ _Shit!!!”_ He groaned, plopping back down on the lounger in defeat. 

_**He had screwed that up royally.** _


	87. Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rona and Bart come to a startling realization and neither handle it well.

When Faith returned to the party, she apologized for the interruption. 

“Sorry about that.”

“Everything _alright_ , Nickolayevna?” Vladim inquired with interest. 

“Yes. It was a personal phone call.”

Bruce reached for her leg under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Rona?”

“Yes.”

He nodded, and caught John’s eye, who was smirking impishly. 

Either something important had happened, or Bart had managed to fuck it up...

Bruce was betting it was probably a bit of both.

“Did I miss anything important?”

“No, we were just discussing the differences in secondary education here, versus the States.”

“Oh.” Faith shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that at all.”

“You didn’t go to college.” Oksana queried, the tone of her voice letting Faith know she already knew the answer.

Faith smirked and said innocently, “I had my work. Which kept me busy. I don’t think they hand out degrees for covert work, do they Krasivyy?”

“Not last time I checked.” He chuckled. “But then again, I never finished my MBA, and I do alright in the business world.”

Everyone laughed at that, but Faith could feel Oksana’s irritation spike. 

“I’d say you’re adequate.” John deadpanned. 

“That’s for the vote of confidence, John.” Bruce replied evenly, but the quirk of his lips gave him away, “Harvard isn’t for everyone.”

“You went to Princeton.”

“Yes, I did. Good school, even if I didn’t appreciate it at the time.”

“School’s not for everyone.” Yevgeny piped up, with a wink. “I _detested_ school, but managed to do well enough. I preferred music.”

“I enjoyed art.” Natalia spoke up with a firm nod. “But I learned from my mother, so there was that.”

“I didn’t know you were an artist, Aunt Zarina?” Faith asked in Russian.

“I wouldn’t call myself an artist, but I find it relaxing.” Zarina replied in kind.

“I’d love to see some of your work.” Faith smiled genuinely. “I used to draw a bit when I was younger. I don’t know if I was any good at it, as I’d never showed my drawings to anyone. But it was a good outlet.”

“I have always found art to be rather soothing,” Zarina admitted, “and something to be enjoyed whether or not you are creating it, or appreciating it.”

“Well said.” Vladim nodded imperiously, as he replied in English. “Russia is rich in artistic tradition. I understand your mother was a fan of Tchaikovsky, Nickolayevna?”

“Yes. It was amazing to see the Moscow Ballet in Gotham. Such talented artists.”

“Sergei is very well respected for the work he does with the National Ballet. It is too bad they’re still on tour, as it would be nice to take in a performance while your here.”

“I know. I think they’re in San Francisco until the holidays, yes?”

“Yes. Then they go to Sydney, Australia for a month before they come back home.”

“So tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Vlad held his glass out for the server to refill. Once that was done, he continued, “We will be visiting St. Isaac’s Cathedral in the morning after breakfast. After that, we will continue to the Admirality building and an excursion along the Neva River. We should be done around one. Lunch will be provided on the river boat, and from there I’ve made arrangements for the two of us to visit the local orphanage together.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You still wish to?”

“I do.” Faith felt Bruce’s hand grip hers, and she covered it with her own. “Will Bruce be coming with us?”

“No, I think it might be a better use of his time to meet with Oksana and some of my Minister’s. I understand that Mr. Bass will be here in the morning, and Mr. Daggett may also wish to attend?” John bowed his head in the affirmative. “Well, that’s settled.”

“Cool.” Faith took a sip of her sparkling water, trying her best to ignore her husband’s irritation and panic. 

**I’ll be fine, Krasivyy.**

_I don’t like the idea of being separated, even if it is for an afternoon._

**Me neither, but this is for a good cause. We can’t let him get suspicious, right?”**

Bruce’s small sigh of defeat, let Faith know that for now? 

She’d won their discussion. 

The rest of the evening was rather nondescript, as the conversations vacillated between politics, business and the events on the agenda for the next few days. 

Once they’d returned to their hotel room, Bruce took Faith into his arms and kissed her breathless. When he’d finally made his point, he pulled back and sighed. 

“I’m _not_ okay with this, just for the record.”

“I know. But we really don’t have a choice in the matter. Frankly, I think this is another one of his tests, and I’m happy to play along for now. Besides, my guess is the only reason he’s making this happen is it’ll make him look good.”

“I do know this, it doesn’t make me feel any better.” Bruce then led her into their bedroom, asking...”What did Rona want?”

Faith shared with Bruce about what had happened with Rona, Bart and Whistler...causing Bruce to shake his head. 

“What do you think it all means?”

“Well, I think it likely means that Whistler is letting Rona know that she will be having a child, who will be a Slayer.”

Bruce chuckled, his expression alight and knowing. “No Gorgeous, I think somehow, Whistler is letting Rona know that she’s likely already pregnant.”

Faith gasped, and paled. “But Bart had a vasectomy!”

“They don’t always work, and in rare cases from what I’ve read, it can spontaneously reverse on their own.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Faith grabbed her phone out of her bag, and dialed Rona’s phone number. 

But it wasn’t Rona who answered. 

“Faith?”

“Bart?” Faith hissed. “Is Rona there?”

There was a brief pause, then a heavy sigh. “No, she’s taking a walk.”

“Alone?”

“We’re on a small island, Faith. It’s not like she’s going to get lost.”

Faith’s radar went up as she bit out, “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Bart lied, “and even if it did, no offense, Faith...but whatever issues that Rona and I _have_ , and I’m sure we’ll have a few...I’m not going to set a precedent where you threaten me every time something comes up. Rona is _my wife_ , and I’ve been married before, so I have some experience in this.”

“You’re being an **ass**.”

“And you’re being a _pushy mother hen,_ which under most circumstances I’d applaud, but frankly? I’m not in the mood right now.”

Faith glanced over at Bruce, who could hear some of the conversation, and he just seemed more amused than not, so she huffed out a deep breath before she sat down and queried cajoling, “Tell me what happened? Maybe I can help?”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, Bass. Just spill.”

She could hear Bart moving around, but eventually he seemed to get himself situated...and then he spoke...

“As you know Whistler showed today and spoke with us. Rona surmised that based on what he’d said, she might actually be pregnant already. I didn’t handle it well, as I’m sure you can understand, I’ve had a vasectomy. I’ve been in other relationships since then, and it’s never been an issue. I’ve used protection, but the first night Rona and I were together, well...”

“You didn’t have enough? Or didn’t use it?”

“Both?”

Faith snickered. “Okay, let’s just say she is pregnant, Bart. What’s the issue? Is it because you’ve just gotten married and you were hoping for more time before starting a family, or are you really not sure you want more kids.”

“More the former, but there’s a part of me that had resigned myself to the idea that it’d likely have taken more time for this to happen. She’s only twenty-three, Faith.”

“Rona’s an old soul.”

She couldn’t hear Bart chuckling on the other end, as he bit out, “True.”

“Bart? There’s more to this, and I suppose you might as well know all of it.”

“Know what?”

“Whistler came and spoke with Buffy last night. Based on that conversation, we kinda think that when we activated the potentials, that it change how the line of Slayers would be called going forward.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Slayers, are called when their predecessor dies. But the full potentials of the Slayers were activated in 2003. So if a Slayer dies, there isn’t another to take their place. So how would another become activated?”

The other end of the phone was quiet for a few moments, and when Bart finally did speak up, his voice was resigned. “It would need to passed down from Mother to daughter.”

“Yes. The Powers gave me a vision of my future. I will be having another son and a daughter. She will likely be a Slayer. My guess, is if you and Rona have a daughter, she will be too.”

There was no sound on the other line for quite some time, and Faith had to wonder if Bart had hung up, or placed her on mute.

“Bart, you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“And?”

“Just a lot to process, Faith. I should go and try to find Rona.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll tell her you called?”

“Yes, and if she needs to call me?”

“I’ll let her know that too.”

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

And the line cut off. 

Faith set her phone down with an unhappy sigh, noticing her husband taking a spot across from her, his brow furrowed.

“I take it he’s not handling it well?”

“No.” She pursed her lips and then gritted out, “Maybe I should’ve had you talk to him, and you both could’ve commiserated over being total jack asses when it comes to finding out you’re about to be a father?”

“Ouch!” Bruce snipped back petulantly. “Low blow, Gorgeous.”

“Maybe, doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

A heavy sigh from her husband, made Faith feel a little guilty, but not much. 

“Bubble bath?”

Her soft smile was all the answer he needed, so Bruce got up and went into their ensuite to start the water. 

Back in the Bahamas, Bart was sitting down on the lounger, staring morosely into the fire. 

Despite Whistler’s warning, he had handled today poorly. It didn’t change the fact that he’d assumed they’d have more time together before they had to even consider starting a family. And if he was being totally honest? 

A part of him had wondered if it would even be possible for him to have more children. 

It would seem that the Powers had other ideas.

How was he supposed to feel about the possibility?

Did he really see himself having more children?

Had he lied to Rona, or was he having second thoughts?”

He loved her, that part was true. 

She was strong, fierce and capable. 

She was also loving, loyal and _sexy as all fuck..._

So yeah, he wanted her in his life, and he wanted to be married to her...

But did that translate to having a child together, when it came right down to it?

Shaking his head, he stood up and headed down the path towards the beach, figuring that was where she’d be, but when he got there?

Rona wasn’t there. 

He walked around the perimeter of the island, which took about thirty minutes, and didn’t see his wife anywhere. 

Moving up the ancillary roadway, towards the second cottage, he noticed right away that the power was off, and no one was there. 

He opened the door and looked around, but except for supplies and emergency items, there was no sign of his wife. 

He hurried outside, and ran back up towards the main house, but when he arrived there was no sign of Rona anywhere. 

_Where was she?_

That’s when he heard the boat launch and he was quick to notice that his boat was moving off the dock and out into the open sea. 

“ **Rona!”** He screamed, running full bore down the walkway towards the dock. 

_What the fuck was she doing?_

When he finally got to the launch, his boat was just to the horizon, and he could only watch in horror as it disappeared from view. 

Dashing back up to the house, the first thing Bart noticed was Rona’s bag was gone.

Then he noticed her phone wasn’t where she’d left it. 

She must’ve come up while he was looking for her, but why had she left?

Reaching for his phone, a small piece of paper fell onto the ground. Grabbing it, he opened it up and read it...

_**Bart,** _

_**I’m heading for Martinique. I’ll be back.** _

_**Rona** _

  
“What the fuck!” He screamed in anger. 

Dialing her number, he felt his fury rise when she didn’t pick up. Based on the currents and time, she’d be gone for at least two hours, maybe longer depending on what she was going there for. Knowing he had no choice but to wait, he did...

But he was _pissed_. 

The first hour, Bart sat there and stared off into the fire—feeling his anger raging...

The second hour, he got up and started pacing, feeling his anger turn into blinding fury...

By the third hour, his fury and morphed into worry...

By the fourth hour, the worry had turned into fear...

When the fifth hour hit?

_Pure panic set in..._

He’d called Rona a sum total of ten times, and she had yet to pick up. 

Glancing at his watch, Bart noted it was getting close to midnight. 

When 2am hit, he felt the hard lump in his stomach well up into his throat. 

By four am, he was down at the dock, sitting on the pier, waiting for any sign of his boat on the horizon. 

By six am, the tears had come...and he’d started to pray to the Powers to bring his wife back to him.  
  
To forgive him for being such a selfish fool!

It wasn’t until past nine in the morning, that he saw his boat cresting into view, and he felt his heart pounding within his chest. 

But as the boat got closer, all his original anger welled back into his throat. 

So the second his boat docked, Bart moved with purpose over to his wife, who wasn’t even looking at him, and he was so upset...he didn’t notice her own emotional state. 

“What the fuck were you _thinking_ , Rona?”

“I’m not in the mood to fight with you right now.”

“ _Too fucking bad!!!”_ He bellowed, “You took my boat and left me here stranded with no way to know where you were, or if you were okay!”

“I left you a note.”

His expression darkened dangerously, as he lowered his head into her space and sneered with contempt, “Yes, you left me a fucking note, Rona!”

“What’s your _problem?”_ She snarled. “I told you I’d be back!” 

“My problem! My problem is my _wife_ , left me, took a boat by herself, with me stranded where I had no way to get to her, and no way of knowing if something had happened to you!! _I called you!_ Why didn’t you answer me?”

“My phone died about an hour after I left.”

The incredulous look on Bart’s face was to be expected. 

“Where did you go?” He demanded coldly. 

“Martinique. I told you.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

He just stared at her mutinously, until the truth hit him. 

“You went to find a pregnancy test?”

“Well, look at you? You can actually use your brain after all!”

He shook his head in utter exasperation. “ _Fuck you, Rona!”_

“Right back at you, Rich man!” 

She turned to walk inside, and he grabbed her arm to halt her leaving.

“Grow up, Rona. You can’t run away and disappear every time we have a disagreement, or I end up doing something you don’t like! Marriage doesn’t work that way!”

“Cause you’re such the expert being married to Evelyn and the tart, right? And I’m just the stupid girl, who trusted you to keep your promise, right?”

“I didn’t say that, Rona. You don’t get to keep putting words into my mouth!” He growled in ire. “You left me here, that’s why I’m pissed at you. _It’s justified._ You don’t get to do that, Rona! You don’t get to leave me stranded for over twelve hours wondering if you’re alive or dead!”

“ _ **Don’t exaggerate!”**_

“I’m not!” Bart threw his hands up in the air. “You know what? It would seem that you have no idea how to communicate, nor compromise. So until you can figure that shit out? Don’t talk to me. I’m leaving and maybe you’ll understand how it feels, eh?” 

He went inside and grabbed his bag, passport, phone and a change of clothes, and headed down the pathway. As he got to the dock, he glanced back up and saw Rona standing there, staring at him stubbornly, but not making any move to stop him. 

So he got on the boat and left...

It wasn’t until much later that he’d realized he’d never asked about the pregnancy test. 

And by the time he’d come to that conclusion?

_It was too late._


	88. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart and Rona face a tragedy that rocks their marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter deals with themes of miscarriage. Please skip it that’s a trigger for you.

Bart made it back to the island that night, after wandering around Martinique all day, trying to get his anger to abate. He was hurt too, but that emotion was secondary to the frustration he felt at how stubborn his wife was. 

As he docked his boat, a part of him was surprised to note that Rona wasn’t waiting for him. He grabbed his bag and headed up to the house, but when he arrived and called out for his wife, she didn’t answer. 

Brow furrowed, he went inside and headed into their bedroom, and his eyes widened when he noticed immediately that the closet door was open...

And all of Rona’s things were _gone_. 

Rushing into the bathroom, the small cabinet was sitting wide open and all of Rona’s things were missing too. 

It smelled _sterile_ as well.

And that was when he saw it...

The pregnancy test on the counter, alongside his wife’s wedding band...

Hands shaking, he picked up the platinum band and grasped it into his fist, his heart pounding like there were fifty hummingbirds inside of his chest, trying desperately to get out...

As he glanced down at the pregnancy test, he saw two blue lines staring back up at him. 

**“Fuck!”** He screamed enraged, rushing out of the house and down to the secondary one, but as he suspected, Rona wasn’t there either. 

_How in the fuck had she gotten off the island!_

He pulled out his phone and called her, but it went straight to voice mail. 

So he left a message...

_Rona? Where are you? I’m here on the island and when I got back, you were no where to be found! Rona...call me, please! I need to know you’re okay. Please, Rona..._

The message beeped, and he tried again, with no success. 

As he wandered back up to the main house, the truth hit him. 

“Whistler! I **know** you can hear me! I need to talk to you, right now!”

There was a deep chuckle, and when Bart turned around, the emissary from the Powers was smiling smugly at him. 

“Hello, Mr. Bass. What can I do for you?”

“ _Where_ is my wife?”

“Ah, Miss Steward...”

“Mrs. Bass! She’s _my_ wife and she’s gone! Did she call you and ask you to take her somewhere?”

“Perhaps.”

“And where was that?”

“I’m afraid, I shouldn’t give you that information.”

Bart moved over quickly and lifted the half demon looking man thing into the air, his entire body filled with blind fury. 

“You better tell me!”

But the man, demon, _whatever the fuck he was_ —just grinned at him. 

“I tried to warn you, Mr. Bass. I told you, that you’d be held accountable for your _inactions_.”

“What do you mean?”

“You left your pregnant wife here on this island all alone. Did it ever even occur to you, what might’ve happened if something unexpected had occurred?”

Bart paled. “ _What do you mean?”_

“I think you know. Miss Steward will be fine physically, but mentally is another issue altogether. Trust me when I tell you, that today will not be an easy thing for you both to get past. If you truly love her as you claim, then you will have some serious atoning to do. If you do not, she will give you the out you seek, and you will never see her again.”

“Shit! Did she _lose_...”

“You know the answer to that as well.” Whistler interrupted, and then felt himself being unceremoniously dropped onto the hard ground. 

“Where _is_ she?”

The balance demon sighed as he tilted his head up at the mortal, and could see and feel his despair and fear. 

“She has returned home.”

“New York?”

“No, Mr. Bass.” Whistler replied mockingly, as he stood up and dusted himself off. “She has returned _home_.”

“Can you take me to her?”

“I cannot. You are _not worthy_ of such an honor, but perhaps you can use this time to consider your inactions, and what you might seek to do to fix the mess you’ve made.”

And with that, Whistler was gone. 

Bart called his pilot and had him file a flight plan for Chicago immediately, as he rushed back inside and grabbed the rest of his clothes, and within thirty minutes he was heading back to Martinique. 

Two hours later he was on his way to Chicago. 

Nine hours later, he was outside of Robert Steward’s home, his hand shaking as he hit the buzzer on the intercom box outside of the twenty foot main gate. 

Twice more he repeated the motion, and _finally_ a stilted voice drifted over the intercom. 

“Can I help you?”

“Dominic, it’s Bart Bass. Might you buzz me in, please?”

There was a brief pause, and then the gate unlocked and swung open, and Bart sighed as he drove on through, rolling up his window. As he got to the main house, he parked his car, got out and rushed towards the front door, where Dominic was already waiting for him. 

“Mr. Bass? How can I help you today?”

“I’m here to see my wife.”

“Miss Steward is resting upstairs.”

“Dominic?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Unless you plan on calling the police and having me _arrested_ for trespassing? I’m going inside to see _my wife._ Is Robert here?”

“No, Sir. He left for Russia a few hours before Miss Steward arrived back home. She asked he not be called.”

“I see.” Bart nodded, relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with a vengeful Robert right about now. “If you’ll excuse me?”

As he went to move past, Dominic gripped his arm, and Bart could see the repressed anger in the older man’s gaze. “A Dr. Melanie Scott, just left about an hour ago.”

Bart bit his lip and nodded. “Thank you for telling me. Can you show me to Rona’s room?”

“Of course.”

Bart followed Dominic upstairs and towards the south wing, where at the end of the long hallway, was a white ornate door. He nodded to the servant and then quietly opened it up, sighing in relief when he saw Rona sitting in the bay window, curled underneath a large blanket, staring outside. 

He moved silently into the room, but knew she could sense his presence. When he got to where she was, he sat down on the opposite side of the window seat and turned to face her. 

That’s when he saw how withdrawn she looked, as well as the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. 

“Rona?”

She didn’t answer, and he sighed. Running a shaking hand down his face, he reached into his pocket and grabbed onto his wife’s wedding ring, as well as the pregnancy test he’d been holding in his hands the entire plane ride home. 

He’d spent eight hours staring at it, and for the first couple hours, it didn’t quite sink in. 

But by the time his plane was flying back over the states, the tears had finally come. 

He’d lost another child, and he had belatedly wondered if somehow?

It could’ve been prevented. 

But his most pressing concern was getting to his wife, and trying to fix what he’d broken. 

“I’m _so_ sorry, Rona. I never should’ve left you alone. I didn’t even think about...” he shook his head in exasperation, “it didn’t register at all, until well after I’d left, that I hadn’t even asked you about...”

She didn’t say anything, but he knew she was listening...

“My _sweet girl,_ I know you’re angry with me right now. And I know, that I _deserve_ that anger.”

“I’m not angry.”

Her voice was small, and tired...

But there was a tinge of something else there that he couldn’t define. 

“You should be.”

“Why are you here?”

“Rona? Where else would I be? As soon as I got back to the island and discovered you were gone, I called for Whistler. He told me what happened.”

“I’m sure you must be relieved.”

He swallowed heavily, and felt his chest cracking open with emotion. He instinctively wanted to lash out, but he knew that Rona had a right to her opinion. 

He hadn’t exactly made it easy for her to assume anything else. 

“I’m _not_ , little girl. I’m so sorry. I wish I could go back and do things differently. I’ve spent the past nine hours trying to figure out why I reacted the way I did.”

“And?”

“I thought I’d have more time to get used to the idea? We are just starting our lives together, sweet girl and selfishly? I was looking forward to having you all to myself. I didn’t lie to you, Rona. I meant it when I’d told you I would give you anything you’d wanted from me, including a child. I still want that, _very much.”_

Amber eyes drifted towards him, and he could see the lack of emotion there. 

_She didn’t believe him._

“It’s fine, Bart. You don’t have to tell me that. I’ve contacted my family attorney, and he will be here in the morning. I’ll give you an annulment, and you won’t have to see me again.”

His expression darkened and though he had expected this, after what Whistler forewarned...

... _but even so?_

It ripped an even larger wound in his chest to hear Rona say it out loud. 

“You don’t love me anymore?”

“It’s because I do, that I’m giving you this out. It’s clear we rushed into this without thinking it through.”

“Little girl?” He growled deeply, “ _Hear me, now!_ **I’m not signing anything, and I’m not giving you up.** Yes, I screwed up and we can’t change the fact that our child is gone. I’m sorry, Rona. I’m sorry, that I ever made you think I didn’t want that with you. Nothing could be further from the truth. I love you. You are my life, and I’m not walking away now, nor ever. Yes, we got married quickly, and _yes_...perhaps we should’ve discussed children in more concrete terms, but I don’t think either one of us considered this scenario happening at all. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Then please understand that, Rona. Don’t hold my short-sightedness against me. _I love you._ I want to try again, when you’re ready. If you still want that with me?”

“And how do I know you mean it, Bart? How can I _trust_ you to keep your word this time around?”

“Rona...I came back to the island to tell you I was ready. That this is what I wanted, regardless of how it happened. I was expecting to find you there, waiting for me.” He sighed and asked lowly, “Are you alright? Whistler said you were fine physically?”

“It was likely very early, according to Dr. Scott. She took some blood and wants me to come in to see her tomorrow to check.”

He nodded, and then felt a lone tear fall down his cheek. He bowed his head, as he tried to get control of his breathing better. 

But all the memories of when Evelyn had lost their first two children came rushing back, and he dropped his head into his hands, shuddered and let go. 

He could feel Rona’s eyes on him, and he so wanted to hold her...but he wasn’t sure she wanted that from him right now. 

After several moments, he glanced up and wiped at his own tears, seeing evidence of Rona’s loss of emotional control, as she stared at him brokenly. 

“ _Please_ , little girl? Tell me I haven’t ruined this? That I haven’t irreparably damaged the love you feel for me?”

“I need some time.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Should I go?”

She shrugged. “Dominic can make you up a room.”

His expression shuttered, but he stood up, leant over and kissed the crown of her head. “Okay, but do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Well two favors?” Her countenance was expectant, but she didn’t reply so he forged ahead... “Please table any permanent decisions about our marriage for right now? We need to try and figure this out ourselves, agreed?”

Her lips pursed but she nodded, and he sighed in relief. 

“And the second?”

“We keep this between us, for tonight at least?”

“Why?”

“Because, Rona? We are married. Going forward, if we have any chance of building something strong and lasting, we need to learn to weather these storms together. To learn to lean on each other. To communicate our fears, and listen...to not run when things get tough. They will. That’s life. The truth of the matter is this? I don’t want to be without you, but I’m not perfect. Fuck, Rona! I’ve been alone for so long, and broken—that it’s going to take me some time to instinctively figure out how to be part of a couple again. I want it, and I want that with _you_. There is no one, on this earth, that I would’ve ever braved this again with, but you. If you leave me, know this now? There will never be anyone else for me. I’ve never allowed myself to say these things, nor be this vulnerable with anyone before you, little girl. Doesn’t mean I won’t screw things up, nor hurt your feelings even though that’s the last thing I’d ever intend to do. I’m sure you know that about me, right?”

“I do.”

“And yet you love me any way?”

“I _do_.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and he fell to his knees in front of her, his expression painfully open and vulnerable. 

“And I love you, Rona Bass. Please _believe_ me.”

Her amber eyes assessed him, and he could see her warring with herself. 

She truly wasn’t sure of him, and his capacity for love. 

And he couldn’t blame her in the least. 

Even he doubted himself, at times. 

“I believe you think you love me,” she said at last, “and maybe it’s true. But I know you, Rich Man. I know what a fortress of solitude you are. I know you like to control your world and everything in it. But _this_ , is something you have no control over. That’s why you’re afraid of having another child. Why you spent all your time giving everything you had to Chuck, at the expense of your own happiness, because you needed to have that control in your son’s life. What are you going to do, if we have a girl at some point in the future? _When her Slayer Powers manifest,_ and she’s called to fight the forces of evil? How will you cope with that, Bart? Will your controlling nature even _allow_ for it? Will you be able to watch her go out at fifteen, sixteen—knowing where she’s going and what she’s been called to do?”

He sat back on his haunches and stared up at his wife in wonder. 

“ _When_ did you figure it out?”

She blanched at that. “After you’d left, but before I miscarried.”

He nodded, and bit his lip in frustration. 

“Faith told me about the possibility, actually. She called looking for you, and I answered the phone. We spoke and I might’ve told her that I didn’t appreciate her threatening me every time I fuck it up.” This got a slight smile. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, but I’m glad Whistler was. I owe him my gratitude for making sure you got off the island safely and taken care of.”

“There’s no way you could’ve known...”

“Doesn’t excuse it, Rona. Nor did it excuse you leaving me, either. Two wrongs, don’t make a right. Maybe, the Powers did this to wake us both up and show us that we need to be stronger together, and not run from the difficult shit. We are a _team_ , now and **always**. I’d suggest counseling, but due to your calling it would make transparency an issue. So that means we need to try and do better together and when the time is right and we have a child, a daughter...because I’m fairly certain it’s not an if...so much as a matter of _when_...then we _need_ to be ready and prepared. I’m willing to take that leap of faith. I’m hoping our daughter will be just as strong and capable as her beautiful mother. You will teach her to be fierce, and I’ll trust you to do this. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I suppose I’ll get to play a supportive role either way. I’m alright with that fact. Sometimes you have to let go, to get back, right?”

“Yes.”

He stood up, and moved over to her, picking her up from the bay window seat and bringing her over to her bed, laying her down and kneeling at her side, cupping her cheek tenderly. 

“Sleep, little girl. I’ll sit here until you do.”

“Okay.”

Bart watched as his wife’s breaths evened and after a while, she was finally out. Once he was certain that she was asleep, he took her wedding band and placed it back onto her left ring finger with the gentlest of kisses. He then walked over to the chaise, grabbed a throw blanket, laid down and felt the worn exhaustion of the past two days seep into his bones. 

Right before he gave way to unconsciousness, he could’ve sworn he’d heard a child’s sweet laughter—off somewhere in the distance. 


	89. Chess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith learns of Rona’s loss, and prepares for the game ahead.

Faith had woken up in the middle of the night, her body tense and alert. She glanced over and noticed that Bruce was still fast asleep. Sighing softly, she snuck out of their bed, went to the bathroom to relieve herself before heading out into the living room and walking over towards the window with an uneasy feeling in her gut. 

Something was _wrong_ , but for the life of her, she didn’t know what that something was. 

Opening the door to the terrace, she took a seat on the chaise and leaned back, staring up at the stars. 

Thankfully, she had thought to grab a robe and blanket on her way out. 

Cuddling under the thick throw, Faith gripped her stomach—feeling it tightening underneath her palm. 

Her stomach muscles felt unusually taught, and it was a strange feeling. 

Rubbing with both hands, she almost missed the slight fluttering underneath her left hand. 

Sitting up slightly in wonder, she rubbed her hand again over the same spot and waited...

She didn’t know how much time had passed, when the sensation returned with slightly a bit more oomph...

“Oh my _God!”_ She whispered in awe, her eyes now scope-locked on the swell of her stomach as tears started to leak down her cheeks. 

“Faith?”

Bruce’s voice came from inside, and she could hear his footsteps coming, but she was too engrossed in the moment to move, so she just choked out, “Out here.”

A few seconds later, her husband came into view, and when he saw her face and where her hands were at, the smart man he was?

He knelt down in a flash, his own hands now hovering over hers. 

“Did he?”

She nodded emphatically. “ _Yes!”_

The word came out as a laugh as she grabbed Bruce’s right hand and held it in the same spot her left hand had just been in...

The second Damian moved, Faith giggled at Bruce’s expression. His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wet with emotion. 

“That’s so cool!” He whispered reverently, now both of his hands were covering her abdomen. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it feels strange, but good strange, you know?”

“I do.” He smiled brightly. “I love you, Gorgeous.”

“I love you, too.”

“Did he wake you up?”

“No.” Faith admitted. “I don’t know why I woke up. Something felt off?”

“Oh?”

“Maybe?” She huffed out a snort. “I might be psyching myself up, though. So, who knows?”

Bruce continued to rub her stomach, his eyes alight with wonder and happiness. Faith, ran her right hand through her husband’s hair, and smiled adoringly at how eager he appeared. 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” She asked, and he nodded. 

“It really is.”

“It sort of feels like a light fluttering, right?”

“Mmhmm, it does. Your stomach muscles tighten up.”

“I know. It’s strange because until you feel it, it’s hard to really understand that there’s a little life inside, growing and getting ready to join the world.”

“He’ll be here, before we know it.”

“Yes. Halfway there.” She grinned, causing Bruce to chuckle and nod. 

After a few more moments, he sighed and lifted her into his arms, taking her back into their bedroom. 

“You need your rest, Gorgeous. Tomorrow is a busy day.”

“I know.” She yawned widely, rolling into Bruce’s embrace and rubbing her cheek against his chest. 

The morning did come far too early, and when Faith opened her eyes it was to the sight of her husband, talking lowly on his cell phone. He was standing by the open window, his left hand thrust into his slacks, while his right hand held the phone to his ear. Faith could see the strain of his back muscles flexing, but more importantly? 

She could feel his emotions swirling. 

There was anger, sadness and worry. 

“Bruce?”

He turned in a flash, and his expression had her flinching at the dark look in his eyes. 

“I have to go.” He said simply. 

The voice on the other end said something that Faith couldn’t make out, but Bruce hung up, placing his phone down on the small table before he came over and sat down on the bed, facing her. 

His face now a stoic mask.

“What happened?”

“Gorgeous, it’s fine.”

By her narrowed gaze, Bruce knew his wife wasn’t buying his assertion one iota. 

“Bruce?” She gritted out lowly, “I can _feel_ your emotions, so don’t lie to me. What happened?”

In that moment, fear spiked through her husband and her breath hitched. 

“Violet or Rona?”

“Rona.”

“What?”

“She lost the baby, Gorgeous.”

Bruce gripped his wife, as her face fell ashen, her breathing shallowed and then he felt her rage. 

“ _What the fuck happened!?_ ” She screeched out.

“That was Bart on the phone,” Bruce explained lowly, “They had just found out about the pregnancy and Rona lost the baby right after. She was only six weeks at the most, according to Dr. Scott.”

“Why are they in Chicago and not New York?”

“I don’t know, Faith. There’s likely more to this, but...” Bruce put up a staying hand, before his wife could speak, “Whatever happened, you need to let them deal with this themselves and not rush in and make it worse. Bart is devastated, and he blames himself. That much I could tell from talking with him. Rona isn’t ready to talk to anyone, _yet_. But he did say that she doesn’t want you rushing home, that she’s fine and she will talk to you when you get back.”

Tears welled into Faith’s eyes, and she blinked them back even as she clutched her own bump. 

“Why doesn’t she want to talk to me?”

“Gorgeous? You’re pregnant and she just lost a child. Can’t you see how it might be hard for her right now?”

Faith nodded slowly, feeling her heart cracking at the thought that she couldn’t help Rona through this.

“What about Robert?” Faith queried, “Are we not supposed to say anything?”

Bruce sighed, and ran both hands down his face in consternation. 

“I didn’t even think to ask that question, Gorgeous. I suppose it’s not our place to speak of it, and I’m sure Bart and Rona will share the news with Robert when he returns to Chicago. I think for now, as hard as it might seem? We need to concentrate our energies on the here and now. Rona has Bart to take care of her, and if they’re still in Chicago by the time we leave? We can stop there on our way home, if that’s what Rona wants.”

“Okay.” Faith capitulated reluctantly. “Should I even text her?”

“Maybe keep it simple? Just tell her you’ll be there for her when she’s ready?”

“I can do that.”

Grabbing her phone off the side table, Faith sent off a quick message to Rona...

**Hey kiddo? Just wanted to let you know, I’m here when you’re ready to talk to me.**

It was a few minutes later, when Faith’s phone dinged with a response.

_I know, Mom. I’m okay. Don’t worry about me right now. There’s nothing you can do to fix this._

**Maybe not. But I’m always going to be here to at least try.**

_I know._

**Good. Take care.**

_I will. You too._

**Five by five. I’ll text you before we head home?**

_Sounds good._

Faith set her phone down and wiped angrily at a few stray tears that had managed to escape. Bruce sat down next to her and took her into his arms, holding his wife to him as she struggled to get her warring emotions under control. 

Then her phone rang...and she sighed as she hit the green button and put it on speaker phone. 

“Hey, B. What’s up?”

“You tell me, Faith. I can feel your emotions from here.”

_**Shit.** _

“I’m fine. Pregnancy hormones.”

“Right.” There was a breath of silence and then Buffy asked, “Rona or Violet?”

“Rona.”

“She okay?”

“No, but hopefully she will be.”

“I see. Try and let it be for now, okay? Whatever it is? You can’t fix it from thousands of miles away.”

“I know, B.”

“Good. Go take a bubble bath. That always makes you feel better.”

“You’re the _worst_.”

“I think you mean the best, but that’s okay too. Try and get a hold of your emotions, Faith. Now is not the time for you to lose your cool.”

Faith took a deep breath and scowled. “I know that.”

“I know you do.” Buffy bantered back. “See you later.”

“Okay.”

Faith hung up her phone, and noticed Bruce eyeing her speculatively. 

“How is that possible that she could feel your emotions from where she’s at?”

“Buffy has had a lot longer to deal with that side of her Slayer powers, Krasivyy. Plus, when we activated the Scythe to heal Violet, my guess is it enhanced what was already there for her as well. Buffy has always been better at accessing her empathic powers than me, you know that. I’m sure in time I’ll be able to do it too, but who knows?”

“Does it bother you that she has that ability and you don’t?”

“No. Buffy has always been more open to her Slayer Powers than I am. She’s never given into the darkness like I have either. She’s died for the calling, three times and come back.”

“Do you think if she had been given the choice, she’d have come back after she’d been dead for those six months?”

“I don’t know,” Faith admitted with a shrug, “I’d like to think that B would’ve made the right choice, in the end. If she hadn’t returned, we would’ve never beaten back the First. Never would’ve gotten the Scythe and would likely, all died in Sunnydale. I wasn’t ready to lead those girls, and even for the small time I did, I fucked it up. I’m not meant for that role. I’m not the General, Bruce. I don’t want that responsibility. I just want to do my part, and maybe some day when all this is behind me, find some peace in the next life.”

“Faith...” Bruce’s voice was admonishing, “you are _way too hard on yourself._ Yes, you’ve made bad choices, and perhaps it’s not fair of me to say that, but come on? You were seventeen, eighteen? Who makes good choices at that age?”

“Buffy?”

“Fine! Who makes good choices at that age when they’ve had no one to support them?”

“Joan of Arc?”

Bruce chuckled at that. “I love your quick wit, Gorgeous—but you’re being deliberately difficult. I don’t know about Slayer history, but I do know that your calling is not something that can ever be minimized by categorizing choices in black and white. You deal with the darkest parts of humanity, not to mention the supernatural world. How can a young girl of seventeen, who has seen the horrors you’ve seen, stand a chance of not falling when she’s had no support of her own? Faith? That’s _unrealistic_. Deep down you know it, too. Please, let it go. Forgive yourself. You’ve atoned enough. If you’d hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now. I truly believe that with all my heart.”

“But how do I explain it to our kids, how fucked up I was?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when the time comes.” Bruce then cupped her cheeks tenderly and asked with all due seriousness, “Is this about Zarina’s future?”

“Maybe.” Faith bit her lip and sighed in defeat. “If she is a Slayer, I’m just worried...”

“Gorgeous? That’s _not_ going to happen.” Faith tried to avert her gaze, but Bruce wasn’t having any of it! “Our daughter is going to be loved, and taken care of. I did get a small glimpse of her future when Whistler took me to talk to my parents. I saw you with all of our children, and they were happy, carefree and so loved.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He nodded emphatically. “ _Faith, you need to leave the past behind_. Take what you have learned, and let the rest be. You’re never going to be alone again, not if I have anything to say about it. We’re a team, you and me. Who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“Just as I belong to you. Angel was right, Gorgeous. We are _fated_.”

“I know.”

“Good. Now let’s go take a bubble bath and get ready for the day today, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Bruce picked her up into his arms and carried her into their ensuite. He got their bath ready, methodically undressed her and they spent thirty minutes just relaxing in each other’s arms. 

Once they were done, and dressed...it was almost time to leave for breakfast and Roger had arrived with the itinerary for the day as well as a small gift. 

“What’s this?” Faith asked, as she looked down at the box with suspicion. 

“Something that Rupert thought might be a good idea for you to take with you.”

Faith opened the box, and inside was a small pinkie ring, with a red stone. 

“Jewelry?”

“Magically enhanced jewelry with a locator spell on it.”

Bruce’s gaze lifted, and Faith could feel the relief wash over him. 

“I take it you didn’t know?”

“No, Gorgeous...but I applaud the idea.” He nodded to Roger in gratitude. “Make sure you thank Giles and Willow for me? I didn’t anticipate us being separated this trip.”

“Actually, it was my idea.” Roger admitted easily. “I’m familiar enough with Vladim to know that he would’ve likely planned this sooner or later.”

“I don’t understand.” Bruce’s voice was clearly strained. “I had assumed he wouldn’t openly try and harm Faith.”

“No, but there may be those within his Cabinet who don’t share his penchant for subtly. I will also warn you, Mrs. Wayne, that Vladim is every bit the _kaznakovi_ you accused him of being. He’s clever, and while having you at his side elevates his political capital? He is not above finding ways to put you on the spot. So a few words of advice?”

“Have at it.” Faith quipped. 

“Don’t react to anything you might see or hear. That means stay calm, focused and methodical in what you say and do. If you’re unsure, ask a question but keep it simple. Don’t seek to upstage Vladim, and let him take the lead. Be polite—no sarcastic comments, and no eye rolling either. And finally, I would imagine in the orphanage, many of the children will be paraded out for you to meet. Whatever you do, don’t stray from his side. Your instincts will likely have you wanting to go and greet the children on your own, but you must refrain. It would be considered poor manners for you to leave his side at any time while you’re doing your visit. It’s likely the matron of the facility will make the introductions to Vladim first, and then you. Stay a step behind, and wait to be addressed. He will make the formal introductions for you.”

“Got it.”

“Good.”

“Will you be going with me or will you have to stay here?”

“Vladim is allowing me to attend to you today. However, I’m sure there will be parts of the visit today, that I’ll not be allowed to partake in.”

“Okay.”

“You will be meeting with the Minister’s of the Interior, Finance and Trade, Mr. Wayne. That will last for a good portion of the day.”

“I have my prospectus ready.” Bruce nodded absently, as he walked over and grabbed his briefcase. “Will the meeting be here?”

“Yes. In the main conference room.” Roger pulled out a sheet of paper from his folder and handed it to Bruce. “These are a few last minute additions to the meeting. Some of the names you might recognize from the business sector. The last one on the list, Yuri Kulik is a rather notorious individual and has ties to some of the more unsavory elements in the business world.”

“Good to know.” Bruce replied, as he perused the other names on the list. “Tatiana Shishpova?”

“New money. Her brother Alexi, is a software engineer and has developed a new algorithm for statistical biometrics modeling. He’s quite the mathematical prodigy.”

“Huh,” Bruce shook his head. “I’m not familiar with the name.”

“He’s a glorified hacker, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce’s eyebrow lifted, and a smirk fell over his face as he considered the possibilities. 

“How good is he?”

“Quite good.”

“As good as Willow?”

“ _No_.”

“Why would Vladim seek to introduce his sister?”

“She also works in his intelligence circles.” Roger replied knowingly. “I’m sure you can infer from that what you will.”

“I think I get the picture just fine.”

“Very good.”

He nodded and left, leaving Bruce and Faith alone for a few moments before they headed downstairs for breakfast. 

“It’s like playing chess, isn’t it?” Faith said after a moment, causing Bruce to chuckle.

“Yes, I do think that’s a very accurate way to look at this. Do you play?”

“I learned the game when I was younger, before my Mom died.”

“Really?” Bruce cupped his wife’s cheeks and gazed down at her in wonder. “Who taught you?”

Faith shrugged. “My sperm donor played and I would watch. At the local park, there were many older gentleman who played on the weekends. He would go there and I would wander around and watch.”

“Did you ever play?”

“No, but I know how.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s not rocket science, Krasivyy.”

“We are going play a game later.”

“Sure.”

Bruce shook his head in amazement, as he led his wife downstairs wondering if there would ever come a day that she didn’t completely leave him in awe of her. 


	90. Morning Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith spends the morning with Vladim at a local orphanage, and discovers a startling truth.

After breakfast was done, Bruce walked his wife out to where her car was waiting. He glanced to his left and could see Vladim speaking with Oksana, and Boris. They would be returning before lunch, then they’d be taking everyone for the tour of St. Isaac’s Cathedral and from there, they’d be heading along the Neva River to take in the sights, and do a river cruise for an hour. 

Later on in the evening, Ivan was hosting a reception at his home. 

Tomorrow they’d be going to the Peterhof in the morning, and then a few visits in the afternoon. She was looking forward to visiting a local school and getting a sense of what the educational system was like here in Russia. 

She also knew that tomorrow’s visit to the Olympic training center, would be a good chance for her to make inroads with Igor Grankin, Vlad’s Minister of Intelligence.

Of all the Minister’s, he was the one that she and Bruce were most concerned with. 

Besides Oksana, who seemed to be utterly _devoted_ to Vlad. 

If she didn’t know better, she’d swear there was some hanky-panky going on there, but nothing of the vibes that she got off either of the two, indicated their relationship wasn’t anything more than almost a father-child dynamic. 

Which caused Faith’s brow to furrow. 

**What is it?**

Bruce spoke into her mind, and she gazed up into worried hazel eyes as she replied back silently...

_I’m not sure. The vibe I’m getting off Vlad and Oksana feels almost...fatherly. You don’t think?_

Bruce’s eyes widened, as he discreetly looked their way again, and then shook his head. 

**I’ll have Lucius look into it?**

Faith hummed, but didn’t reply. If anyone could find out if her suspicions were accurate, Lucius could. 

Or maybe Willow.

She closed her eyes and called out for B.

_Faith?_

_**B? I need you to contact Willow and see if she can do some background for me?** _

_On who?_

_**Vlad and Oksana Balashova.** _

_What are you thinking?_

_**I’m thinking she’s his kid. She’s the same age as his oldest child. He’s been married for twenty six years.** _

_Love child?_

_**Yep**_.

_I’ll have Willow get on it._

**_Thanks, B._ **

_Not a problem. Be careful today._

_**Five by five.** _

Faith broke the mental link, and felt Bruce’s arm tighten around her waist. She smirked up and him and winked, and his reaction wasn’t wholly unexpected. He just kissed her cheek and whispered, “Willow?”

“Yep.”

“Be careful.”

“I will, Krasivyy. No frowning. You’re too pretty to fret.”

That got the smile she was looking for and it was timely, as Vladim was now heading in their direction. 

“Ah, Nickolayevna.”

“Good morning, Vlad.” She replied in Russian. “Are we ready?”

“Yes, my dear.” The older man nodded to Bruce and said firmly, “Oksana will be taking point on the conference this morning. Please make sure any prospectus are given to her directly?”

“Of course.” Bruce bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Enjoy your excursion.”

“We will.” Valdim answered for them both, before he escorted Faith into the armored vehicle leaving Bruce standing there, watching them drive off with a neutral expression on his handsome face.

He sensed John approaching him.

“You okay?”

“I’ve been better.” Bruce admitted evenly. “I know Roger will be with her, but I don’t like being away from her.”

“Faith can take care of herself, you know?”

Hazel eyes locked with blue, and John could see and feel Wayne’s irritation. “I do _know_ that, John. Doesn’t mean I have to _like_ it.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He glanced over to where a few of the Russian contingent were speaking amongst themselves. “I overheard the Premier’s words about Miss Balashova taking point. It’s an awful lot of trust to place in someone so young, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Perhaps she’s just eager to stay on Vlad’s good side.”

John chuckled lowly, and Bruce’s gaze shifted to the entrance where Robert and Chuck were heading out. He sighed heavily. He didn’t even think about whether or not Chuck knew about the loss of the baby, and he was fairly certain that it wasn’t his place to speak up about it either. 

“Bruce.” Robert came over and shook his hand, and Chuck followed, his demeanor completely devoid of emotion. 

_The kid was good._

“Robert, Chuck.” Bruce nodded in greeting. “How’s Blair this morning, Chuck?”

“She’s spending the day with her sister, Serena and their parents visiting a few of the sites. Cyrus was going to join us, but felt it would be better if he and William escorted the ladies around town.”

“Probably a good idea.” 

“Did Faith leave already?” Robert asked curiously.

“A few minutes ago.”

“And Bruce is suffering from withdrawal _already_.” John quipped mischievously, causing Bruce to glare at him, while the other men smirked with amusement. 

“Still in the honeymoon phase?” Robert inquired, and Bruce hummed in agreement. 

“I don’t expect we’ll ever really get out of that phase completely.” Bruce bantered back, causing John to roll his eyes in disgust. “But I suppose we should get inside and get this started. Are we all in agreement?”

Everyone nodded. 

“Good. It’s important we stick to the plan.”

“Not a problem.” John spoke up smoothly. 

Elsewhere, Faith and Vladim were driving through the city, nearing the city center and heading west. Faith glanced outside the car window, trying to get her bearings as to where they were. 

“So, what do you think so far of Russia, my dear?” Vladim asked in Russian. 

Replying in kind, Faith said sincerely, “It’s beautiful and overwhelming. So much history. I was never one for world history in school, but maybe if I’d been able to see a bit more of the world? I might’ve taken a larger interest.”

“You dropped out of high school?”

“Yep. When I was called, at sixteen. School didn’t seem too important at the time, especially when my Watcher was killed in front of me, by a vampire.”

Vlad hummed at that. “Roger did tell me a bit of your past. He mentioned his son was your Watcher for a time?”

“Yes, Wesley.”

“He said your relationship was contentious.”

“It was for a time. I wasn’t in a good head space, and Wesley wasn’t ready to be a Watcher. Before he died, we made peace with each other.”

“Miss Summers, she is your predecessor?”

“Yes.”

“She died?”

“A few times.”

Vlad didn’t seem to know what to say about that. 

“Tell me, Nickolayevna? What is it you’re hoping to gain here?”

Glancing over at Vladim, Faith made a show of frowning in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“Come now? There must be something you seek to gain from this visit?”

“Oh?” She shrugged noncommittally. “I guess I just want to know more about my family. Roger’s been teaching me a bit, when I actually sit down and study with him. He’s been teaching me etiquette too. It’s kinda a chore, if I’m being honest. I’d much rather be out Slaying.”

Vlad chuckled. “I’m sure your husband wouldn’t be happy with you putting yourself in harms way.”

“Bruce is overprotective, it’s true. But I think that’s more to do with the Joker kidnapping me.”

“Ah, yes. I did read a bit about that. He died in the explosion, yes?”

“Yep, went _boom!”_ Faith made the universal hand sign of explosions with both her palms, which caused Vladim to smile at her. “Turns out he wasn’t so funny after all. Not my fault he got caught in his own trap.”

“Hmm, and yet you survived.”

“I tend to do that.” She replied cheekily. “Not that I’m complaining. Since his death, and the mob going down, Gotham looks to be on the mend. If that means Bruce doesn’t have to go out and play vigilante without me, then I’ll take that as a win-win.”

“And what of Miss Tate and her associate?” Vlad asked curiously. “Yevgeny told me you’d mentioned to him that you’d dispensed with them both, but he had no specifics to give me.”

If Faith hadn’t felt Vlad’s emotions surge at that moment, she might’ve been a bit more blindsided by the question. However, she just shrugged and said simply, “I took out Bane. Buffy took out Miranda.”

“Oh?” Vlad leaned forward with a gleam in his gaze. “And how did you manage to defeat Miss Tate’s protector?”

“I _tore_ his mask off his face. He didn’t survive much beyond that.”

She felt Vlad’s surprise, and a tinge of suspicion, but all he said was, “How interesting. And Miss Tate?”

“Oh, she’ll be dead soon, too. Not to worry!” Her voice was cheery and she winked for effect, which caused Vlad to chuckle again, even if his emotions registered displeasure at having his questions thwarted. 

“So tell me, Vlad? How did you get into politics?”

The man sat back stunned at the question, but after a moment he answered truthfully. 

“I’ve always been interested in Government. As a young man, I served in the Navy and my family name was well known in military circles, but perhaps didn’t have the weight of some of the other noted families. My wife, Irina, came from a very well respected family in Moscow with strong political ties. We were introduced, and married soon after.”

Sending out her senses, Faith could detect several emotions registering, but the most prominent one was resignation. But there was a tinge of sadness there as well as longing and irritation too.

“Will I get to meet her?”

“Yes. She’s visiting her mother in Kazan, but will be retuning tomorrow afternoon.”

“Cool. You have kids right?”

“Yes. Two sons, Konstantin and Anton.”

“How old are they?”

“Kon, my oldest just turned twenty six. Anton is three years younger.”

“Did you ever wish for a daughter?”

And there it was...

Panic, mingled with longing...

“Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Well,” Faith settled her hand on her stomach gently, “I never thought I’d have kids in a million years, yet...here we are.”

“Children are a blessing.”

“I’m beginning to think so too.”

The car pulled over, and when Faith looked out the window, she noticed they’d stopped at a large brick building with white shutters with an imposing iron gate surrounding the perimeter. 

“Ah, here we are.”

The chauffeur got out and opened Vlad’s door first. He slid out easily and held his hand for her to follow him which she did. When she got out fully, Vlad released her hand and she made sure to walk just behind him as they made their way up to the steps, were the matron was waiting for them. 

Introductions were made and the older woman, Yelena Babanin, smiled politely at them both before leading them into the orphanage and Faith had to admit that Roger was right. There were probably twenty children of all ages paraded out in what was likely their best clothes, some looking scared, others wary. 

Not one of them was smiling genuinely and Faith could feel their emotions. 

There was anger, resentment, fear, and excitement from a few of the older girls. 

But it brought back a lot of uncomfortable memories for her. 

Vlad was introduced first to each child, and then when it was her turn, she smiled genuinely and spoke in Russian, asking each child simple questions.

They all seemed to be more eager to meet her, and it didn’t feel as if they were afraid of her but some didn’t trust her either. 

And she couldn’t say she blamed them at all. 

She was beginning to wonder if this had been such a good idea. 

When she got to the end of the line, there was a young girl of about nine, staring up at her and Faith felt her gut clench. 

She _knew_ that look, as it was exactly the same one she’d had on her face for years. 

“Hello.” She said in Russian. “Your name is Galina?”

The girl just nodded shortly. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Galina.”

The matron came over and said almost scathingly, “She doesn’t speak, Your Grace. She hasn’t since she arrived.”

“And when was that?”

“Six months ago.”

Faith nodded, and she could feel Vlad’s weighted gaze on her, watching to see what she would do. She knelt down at the girls level and said softly in Russian, “I was in an orphanage when I was your age, and I didn’t talk to anyone for a long time either.”

The girls eyes widened as she whispered out, “Really?”

Faith heard several gasps from the other children, but all she did was nod her head. “Yes. I was scared and missed my Mom. But you know what helped me?”

“What?”

“I had a favorite book of Russian stories that my Mom and babushka would read to me every night. I’d find a quiet spot and read aloud, as if they were still with me. Do you have a favorite story?”

“Yes. I really like Emelya and the Magic Pike.”

“That was one of my favorites too.”

The young girl smiled, and Faith could feel Vlad’s irritation, but the matron just seemed bemused as if she didn’t know what to think. 

The other children were trying to listen in avidly.

Then the little girl queried curiously, “You live in America?”

“I was born there and yes, I live there.”

“Do you like it there?”

Faith huffed out a laugh and shrugged. “It’s all I’ve ever known, Galina. But you want to know a secret?”

She nodded eagerly. 

“I really think that St. Petersburg is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to. You’re very lucky to be able to live in a city that’s so full of wonderful history. Being Russian is something to be very proud of.”

The young girl puffed out her chest with pride, as did the other children and even the matron seemed pleased. 

Vlad was now actually smiling at her. 

“It was really nice to meet you, Galina.”

Faith stood up and winked at the girl, who giggled softly and then followed Vlad out of the room. 

It was a few moments before he spoke up. 

“You’re quite good with children.” He said evenly. 

“I apologize if it seemed I wasn’t being respectful of you, but she just reminded me so much of myself at the same age. I don’t think anyone ever showed me a moments kindness when I was at the orphanage in Boston. Some of the kids were downright cruel.”

Vlad nodded sagely. “I can’t imagine it was an easy thing, Nickolayevna. If I might be so bold, why did you wish to come here, if it brought up such unpleasant memories.”

“I don’t know, it just seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe if by us being here and showing our care for these kids, it might encourage other people to care. That’s not a bad thing, right?”

“No, I don’t suppose it is.”

“Is adoption common in Russia?”

“No. I hate to say it, but there is a stigma associated with adoption. Many families are unwilling to take on another’s burden.”

Faith didn’t know what to say to that, so she figured it was best not to say anything. As she glanced around, and the matron went over what they did there, she took in everything and felt a sense of anger and impotence at not being able to effect change in the ways in which she wanted to. 

Once the tour was done, Vlad led her out of the orphanage and they got back to the car, she could feel his weighted stare. 

“You’re awfully quiet, Nickolayevna.”

“Huh?” Her head shot over towards him, and she blushed in embarrassment. “Sorry, just processing stuff.”

“Hmm, I must admit, what you said to young Galina was very well done.”

“In what way?”

“Well, you didn’t deny your upbringing, nor your heritage, and even made the young girl feel proud of her circumstances—such as they are. You have a talent, it would seem.”

“I was just being real.”

“Yes, and be that as it may? It’s very effective.”

“Thanks, I think. Was that meant to be a compliment? Cause I’m not sure you meant it that way, Vlad.”

The older man chuckled in amusement. “You’re _precious_ , Nickolayevna. You may take it however you wish.”

“ _Kaznakovi_.” She bantered back, and this got a booming laugh, and a few shocked looks from their security detail. 

“No one would ever dare to call me as such, yet you seem to do so with impunity, my dear.”

“Eh, you like that I do. Don’t lie. Besides, I would think it’d get boring not having anyone to verbally spar with.”

He sighed and Faith could feel his emotions of regret blooming. 

“It can be.”

“Well, I’ve never been accused of being much of a conversationalist, but I’m happy to share how I feel.”

“You don’t believe in playing games, do you, Nickolayevna?”

“I’ve told Bruce many times, I prefer the direct approach. It’s too exhausting to try and play mind games with people. Probably why I’d never make a good politician.”

“Or Ambassador?”

She just shrugged. “Officially or unofficially?”

“That’s interesting that you would make that distinction.”

“Well, when you’re officially representing someone, I’d think it would make it harder to be yourself. Probably works in most cases, but for me? I’m not convinced I’d be very good at it.”

“You could learn?”

“Right,” she deadpanned, “cause I have so much experience with that.”

He chuckled again. “You don’t like learning?”

“I never finished high school, but did take my GE, which is a way of testing out of high school, so no. School was never a serious thing.”

“Ah, I do remember this topic coming up previously.”

“Yes, I think it was Oksana who asked me, initially. Nice girl. Are her parents still alive?”

Faith felt Vlad’s emotions spike, but to his credit, he kept his outward demeanor calm and composed. 

“Oksana’s mother died when she was a young girl, and she was raised by her grandmother. Her father died before she was born.”

“Oh, that’s sad.”

“Yes.”

“I know we’d originally planned to go to the orphanage this afternoon, what changed?”

“When I spoke with the matron, she explained their itinerary for the day and it seemed easier to make the adjustment on our end. After lunch and once Oksana finishes with her meeting with your husband and his business associates, we will do our excursion to St. Isaac’s Cathedral and finish the afternoon at the Neva.”

“Sounds good.”

“We do have some time before we need to be back. Was there anything else you wished to see?”

Faith bit her lip and pretended to think about it for a split second before she said simply, “Would it be too much to ask to stop at the Hermitage? I was curious about the grounds.”

“Why?”

“Well, Roger has shown me some pictures, and I know we will be having an event there at night. But I was hoping to see some of the grounds during the daytime too.”

“Ah, I see. Of course.”

He spoke to the driver through a two way car-phone and the next thing Faith knew, they were pulling up to the Winter Palace. 

The main home of the Romanov family, before many of them were killed. 

As before, their driver opened the door for Vlad first, and he escorted her out except this time, he kept her arm within his as they began their walk around the palace grounds. 

It was different than her dream had been, and as she glanced to the right, Faith noticed a small forested area. 

“What did this area look like before all these buildings and grounds were here.”

Vladim noticed the way she was looking and he replied, “The forest was larger, and there was a small pond there, I believe.”

“Ah, it seems rather...”

“Cold?”

“Uhm, intimidating was the word I was going to use.”

“As you’re aware, this was the main home of the Romanov family. Your ancestor Czar Nicholas, was born in the Alexander Palace, and this residence wasn’t used much by the family after 1905. Anastasia was born at the Peterhof palace.”

“Oh? I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, and as we will be visiting there tomorrow, you will have an opportunity to learn a bit more.”

“Does it ever surprise you?”

Vladim glanced down at her and she could feel his confusion. “What, my dear?”

“Seeing all this, how they lived? I mean, it’s amazing and overwhelming...but when people are going hungry or having a hard time taking care of their families? Don’t you think it would’ve been better if my ancestors had chosen to spend their wealth on the people and not so much on all of this?”

She could feel Vladim’s eyes staring at her, and his emotions registered curiosity, suspicion and irritation too—but all he said was, “I suppose it was a likely factor in why the Romanov’s were overthrown.”

Faith just nodded, her gaze taking in everything on the outside of the palace as they walked around the perimeter...being followed by reporters, Roger and their security detail. 

“Do you have a favorite?” She asked cheekily. 

“Palace?”

“Yep.”

She smirked inwardly as she felt his discomfort, but all he said was, “Not especially. They’re all noteworthy in some way.”

“That makes sense.” She was quick to agree, deciding to table the questions for now. 

When they got to the small green belt forest however, Faith eventually found the walkway that she had seen in her dream. As she glanced behind her, she had to wonder just how much of this area had changed in the past century. 

With cars and roadways, she could well imagine it had changed quite a bit. 

Once they were done with their walk, Vladim led her back to their vehicle and soon they were heading back to the hotel. 

It has been a rather educational morning, she just hoped Bruce was finding his part just as revealing. 


	91. Queen’s Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has his meeting with Oksana and both he and Faith, realize that things are much more complicated than they’d realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer...any similarities to real people is purely coincidental and are OOC. Enjoy!

The morning business meeting had been about as eventful as Bruce had assumed it’d be. Oksana Balashova was quite intelligent, eager to make inroads and an incorrigible flirt. 

She was pretty, charming and about as genuine as that _kaznakovi_ , that his gorgeous wife ranted about. 

But it was clear that the woman had an agenda and as Bruce allowed his colleagues to take point, he sat back and observed every person in that room who wasn’t an ally in this game he and his wife were playing. 

He had to admit, that due to spending the majority of his time and energy these past few years on his vigilante pursuits, he had allowed Lucius free reign to deal with the business side of Wayne Enterprises. While he enjoyed the business sector, and had a keen eye for new technologies, that didn’t necessarily translate into being a full-time businessman. 

Bruce had liked the darkness of night a bit too much to ever truly be amenable to thriving in the light. 

He’d found his perfect mate, in that regard. A partner, who enjoyed playing in the dark as much as he did. Who thrived on the rush of adrenaline, and who relished in her own heady power. 

Who was a fucking aphrodisiac in so many ways, it constantly made his head spin with how much he needed her. 

Even now, sitting in this meeting, he felt on edge being away from her. 

In the past such distractions would simply not be tolerated, but now?

He didn’t care so much. 

“What about you, Mr. Wayne?” Oksana inquired pointedly. “You’ve been rather quiet this morning?”

“Just processing,” Bruce smiled disingenuously, “I’m the kind of person who does his research before committing to a path. However, I’m impressed with how much effort you’ve put into this project, Miss Balashova. The Premier must have quite a bit of confidence in your ideas, to have you taking point on this project?”

“Our Premier values fresh ideas, Mr. Wayne. He understands that if Russia is going to have a bright future and succeed in the global markets of today, we must change our ways of doing business.”

“I did notice some incentivized programs for foreign capital, but what about for companies that wish to have a more hands on approach?”

“Such as?”

“Well, manufacturing is a huge part of infrastructure. What plans do you have to incentivize corporations who might wish to bring manufacturing jobs here?”

“That would be dependent on the investiture the company was willing to make. Corporations tend to come into emerging economies and utilize cheap labor to increase their profit margins, often at the expense of the people who do the work.”

“That’s true,” Bruce admitted with a grimace, “and it’s why Wayne Enterprises is very selective in where we do business.”

“You do have some subsidiaries in Taiwan and Singapore.”

“We do. We export those durable goods to countries within the existing regions. Japan, Hong Kong, India, to name a few.”

“Not Mainland China?”

“No. I’m not inclined to work with their government. I take issue with certain political policies, and while I’d imagine my company would see a marked increase of revenue should I be willing to compromise, I’m _not_ willing to margin my personal ethics for greed.”

The entire table had gone silent, and everyone noticed Oksana’s eyes narrowing. “Is that meant to be a disparagement on our politics?”

“Not at all,” Bruce replied smoothly, “I would think by opening doors to new possibilities, it might only serve to benefit your country both economically and politically. The world is becoming smaller, with the advent of technologies that connect people. I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

Oksana didn’t reply to that, but Bruce could see that she was weighing his words, rather than taking them at face value. 

“What does your GDP look like?” Chuck piped in, his deep voice devoid of any emotion. “Russia’s credit rating with the World Bank must be concerning, yes? Are they willing to offer capital?”

“Not at this time.” Oksana replied, her voice now slightly irritated. “It’s one of the issues I’m dealing with currently.”

“And your allies?”

“Which ones?”

“China, Pakistan, and Iran?”

“In some cases sanctions have made it difficult for them.”

“I’d imagine North Korea might have a thing or two to say about that as well?”

“Is there a point to this line of topic, Mr. Bass?”

“Yes. You politically choose to support countries that will seriously impede your plans going forward. You have the political capital to sway policy, yet you _don’t_. Or should I state, the Premier hasn’t done so, at least publicly. Bass Industries would be taking a huge risk not only in the markets, but from a public relations standpoint, bringing capital here without some kind of assurances that these issues will be addressed going forward. Bass Industries has the capital, we even have the infrastructure, but what no Fortune 500 company can afford, is bad press.”

Bruce sat back and had to give it to Chuck... 

He was a _chip_ off the old block. 

“Mr. Bass is correct.” Robert Steward spoke up with conviction. “As much potential as there might be here, I would also need some assurances from a public relations standpoint. I’d like to physically see the infrastructural options as well as meet some of the local business sectors and see for myself if this would be a good fit for my company long term.”

“Daggett Industries deals solely with infrastructure.” John added, “Being the third largest construction company the States, my entire business portfolio relies heavily on having a solid foundational structure to work with. Without the investiture and guarantees from the World Bank, it would be very hard for a company like mine to make the leap into a new market without some kind of financial surety that the commitments are solidly in place.”

“Which brings us back to the beginning.” Bruce’s voice was tinged with faux concern, “I’ve spoken to some of my other business contacts in the States, who might be willing to come on board, if there were assurances in place from a political and public relations standpoint.”

“Such as?”

“Balthazar and Zephyr Getty.”

Oksana’s eyes widened at that. 

“You do business with them?”

“Not as such. They are close personal friends.”

“Bruce dated Zephyr in college.” John parlayed playfully, earning a dark look from Gotham’s Prince. 

“Beside the point.” Bruce bit out. “Most of our guests have varied financial resources, and that was one of the reasons we’d asked them to come. So they could see for themselves, what Russia had to offer.”

“I see.” Oksana hummed thoughtfully. 

“We’re not saying no, Miss Balashova. We just need a _better_ plan. It won’t do you any good, if we can’t deliver results long term, due to perceived political and public relations issues. I think Vladim is on the right track. He seems to want to make some positive changes, which is why we’re here.”

“So what would you suggest, Mr. Wayne?”

He glanced to his counterparts, and they all nodded. 

“Access would be the first caveat. Each of us would need to look into which areas of the country would be most beneficial for our needs. Second, there would have to be a strengthening of political policy, and at least some kind of softening from the World Bank. Lastly, Russia has a public relations problem. If nothing else, you’ll need to deal with this if you hope to lure any foreign capital long term.”

“Why do I feel as if we’re playing chess?”

“Business is very much like a game of chess. Each of us sitting here wouldn’t be where we are today without being able to think three or four moves ahead. Your proposal is a good start, but without a strong foundation, it’s not sustainable long term.”

“I’m unsure how giving greater access to you, doesn’t compromise our position?”

“That’s why they call it _negotiating_ , Miss Balashova. Whilst you studied abroad, and have spent a part of your education learning the free market system, I’m afraid that alone gives you _little_ understanding on how an actual multi-billion dollar international business runs. I’m accountable to my Board of Directors as are these gentlemen, but more importantly, we are beholden to our employees who rely on us to provide support for their livelihoods. I take that responsibility _very seriously.”_

“Commendable, if a bit unconventional.” Oksana bit back. 

“To some, it might seem that way.”

“I will share your concerns with the Premier. I can’t make any promises at this time, I’m afraid.”

“Understandable.” Bruce bowed his head politely. “But at least we have a good place to start, yes?”

“I suppose.”

As they finished up their meeting, Bruce excused himself and went to check and see if his wife had returned from her morning excursion. On his way back to their suite, he noticed Zarina and Natalia on the veranda, having tea with several of the Royals, including Her Majesty Elizabeth and Prince Phillip. Zarina caught his eye and gestured for him to join them, which he felt honor bound to accept. 

Once he was within proximity, he halted his gait and bowed formally. 

“Nephew,” Zarina spoke in Russian, “are you done with your meeting?”

“Yes, Aunt Zarina,” Bruce responded in kind, “I was just going to check to see if Faith has returned from her outing.”

“She is still with the Premier,” Zarina replied, “but do join us.”

Bruce nodded and took the proffered seat, next to Zarina, while Prince Charles was sitting to his left. 

“Have you been enjoying your visit?” Bruce asked Zarina, now in English. 

“Yes. It’s been a dream come true for this old woman.”

There was a smattering of light chuckles from their guests. The other Royals of note around the table were Prince Albert from Monaco, Prince Felipe of Spain, and his Father, King Juan Carlos as well as Henri, the Grand Duke of Luxembourg and his wife, Maria.

“How did your meeting go?” Juan Carlos inquired, and Bruce nodded to Natalia, who poured him a cup of tea. 

“It was about what I’d expected. Miss Balashova is quite eager to build foreign investment opportunities, however? There is much work to be done before the kind of investiture they’re hoping for, can realistically be committed to.”

“So you’re not wholly committed?”

“I’m skeptical, I suppose. But I do think in this instance, it’s fair to have a healthy bit of skepticism.”

They all nodded, and Prince Felipe inquired, “And how is Nickolayevna handling all of this? Does she have a mind for business?”

Bruce chuckled at that, and nodded. “She just helped Mr. Bass with a hostile takeover of Payne Global not too long ago, along with Robert Steward’s daughter, Rona.”

“Ah, I’d heard she’d married the Bass Patriarch recently.” Henri offered, and Bruce bowed his head in reply. 

“They are on their honeymoon. Otherwise, Bart would’ve been here representing his company, instead of his son.”

“The young man seems like a chip off the old block.”

“He really is.” Bruce acknowledged with a smirk. “I wasn’t aware you were familiar with Bart Bass, Your Grace.”

“Call me Henri, Bruce. But yes, I do know Bart, or should I say I _knew_ Evelyn. We went to school together in Paris.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Sweet girl, it was a travesty—her condition.”

“It was.”

“And Nickolayevna? She is with child?”

“She is.” Bruce smiled genuinely, and felt Zarina patting his hand in commiseration. “We’re thrilled, of course.”

“How has she been feeling?” Maria asked kindly. 

“Morning sickness seems to be done—thankfully.”

Everyone chuckled at that and the conversation moved on to other things, for about twenty minutes, until Zarina’s face broke out into a wide, happy smile. 

“Nickolayevna!”

“Hello, Aunt Zarina.”

The men all stood as Faith came into view with Vladim by her side. Bruce moved over and nodded politely to the Premier, before taking his wife and settling her in the offered seat, thanks to Prince Charles. 

“Thank you.” She grinned brightly. “It’s good to get off my feet for a little while.”

Another round of laughter followed, and Vlad came over and kissed her knuckles in parting, telling Faith he’d see her in an hour after he’d had a chance to check in with his Ministers.

Once he’d left, Faith breathed a sigh of relief. 

“How did it go?” Natalia asked with interest. 

“It was fine.” Faith replied evenly. “I wish I could say I was prepared for today, but I think I won’t ever truly be prepared for any of this.”

“You _never_ are, my Dear.” Elizabeth spoke up, and all eyes turned to her. “There is no book that gives you a guide for certain situations. When I was a young Monarch, it was quite difficult to try and find a balance between my duties and my personal beliefs. Even today, there is a part of me that finds the most difficult challenge, is remaining neutral.”

“Seems like it’d take a lot of energy.” Faith admitted with another small sigh.

“It really does.” The Queen nodded. “Actions often speak louder than words. _Showing_ the people you care, is what’s important. Words mean very little, without the intent behind them.”

“I just want to make a difference.”

“And you will.” 

Faith nodded, and took a small sip of her herbal tea before she said brightly, “We stopped by the Hermitage grounds today, and pictures don’t do it justice. I’m looking forward to seeing the inside.”

“It’s quite spectacular, by all accounts.” Juan Carlos nodded. “Have you had an opportunity to see much of the world?”

“No,” Faith shook her head, “other then Zurich and our honeymoon destinations, I’ve never really been anywhere.”

“Well, you must come to Spain and see what we have to offer. I’d imagine that you’ll love Madrid. The music and dancing are top rate.”

Faith beamed and Bruce just smiled indulgently at how excited his wife looked. “I do love to dance!”

“ _Understatement_.” Bruce murmured under his breath, earning another round of laughter. 

“Oh?” Natalia chirped. “And what kinds of dancing do you enjoy, Nickolayevna?”

“Well, Bruce and myself took Argentine Tango lessons on our honeymoon. Apparently, he was professionally trained when he was younger.”

“Not by choice.” Bruce deadpanned, and several of the men nodded in understanding. 

“But I also know Samba, and a bit of Rumba.” Faith finished with a wink.

“Then you both must come to Spain!” Felipe nodded, along with his Father. “You will love it there.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Faith purred, while Bruce just hummed in agreement. 

Once tea was finished, Faith and Bruce excused themselves and went upstairs to change for the afternoon ahead. 

The visit to the Peterhof Castle was more of the same—rich in history and so much to see, that Faith felt even more overwhelmed, if possible. 

Bruce kept closely to her side, as Vladim pontificated about the interior rooms and everyone milled about, pointing to this and that. 

“It was a noted story,” Vladim continued as they moved towards the upper level of the palace, where the living quarters had been located, “that Czar Nicholas was quite _dismayed_ when Anastasia was born. Already having three daughters, and needing an Heir, he left Alexandra to take a stroll around the grounds to compose himself, before meeting his new daughter.”

Faith could feel Vlad’s smugness, and she sensed he was trying to get a reaction out of her. The rest of their contingent, that was close enough to hear the comment, instantly quieted. 

“It’s always amazed me, how that all worked.”

“What is that, Nickolayevna?”

“Who inherits what?” She shrugged. “Catherine the Great was Tsarina, and other countries have their ruling Monarch’s who are women. Why, we have the most _noted_ one here today, yes?”

Faith beamed at the Queen, and she smiled and nodded, pleased. 

“This is true.” Vladim replied, his expression placid, but Faith could sense his irritation. 

“I suppose it’s nice to have son’s to carry on the family name, but I think a daughter is just as precious.” Faith postulated firmly, “I don’t claim to understand everything about why things were done a certain way, as I’m sure it seemed right at the time. The world we live in today is a lot different, right? You’re quite the progressive, Vlad? Look at Miss Balashova? She’s one of your most trusted Minister’s...but twenty years ago? She might not have been given the opportunity to prove what an amazing job she could do, right?”

“Yes, that is true.” Vlad gave her a penetrating look. “Times, they are changing.”

“Well, not too much!” Faith hummed with a smile. “Traditions are very important.”

“That they are, Nickolayevna.”

Faith could see some of Vlad’s Minister’s nodding to each other, which he missed—but Oksana didn’t. Her emotions were rather easy to read, and Faith could tell the woman didn’t like her at all. 

Which wasn’t all that surprising, considering whom she likely was. 

“What about your son’s, Vlad? Do either one of them have aspirations for a political career? Following in their Father’s footsteps?”

Dark eyes considered her closely, and Faith could feel Vlad’s suspicion, but to his credit, his answer was smooth as silk. 

Oksana however, was _pissed_.

“No. Neither Konstantin nor Anton are particularly interested in politics.”

“Oh!” Faith nodded in faux understanding. “That’s too bad.”

“Perhaps,” Vlad’s gaze shifted for a split second, before settling back on her and Faith could feel the regret coming off him in waves, “But politics aren’t for everyone.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.” Faith deadpanned, which caused Vlad and the rest of their guests to chuckle at the joke. 

The rest of the tour was rather innocuous, and by the time they’d returned to the hotel and got dressed for the reception that was to be held that evening at Ivan’s home, Faith had to wonder if anyone even suspected that Oksana might be Vlad’s illegitimate child. 

Based on what he’d said about adoption, it brought up some interesting scenarios in her mind. 

Was Oksana’s mother married when she’d gotten pregnant with her?

Or had she conceived her out of wedlock?

Had Vlad financially supported her all her life?

“You’re _thinking_ too hard, Gorgeous.” Bruce’s deep voice resonated from the other room and she sighed. 

“Sorry. Just processing some stuff.”

He popped his head around the door frame, and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re _obsessing_ , not processing, Gorgeous.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, which caused Bruce to chuckle softly at her before his gaze locked onto her choice of outfit for the evening. 

“You look _divine_.” He growled, moving into their bedroom and wrapping his arm around her from behind. 

“Thank you. You look rather handsome yourself.”

“I do what I can.” He smirked, but his hazel eyes were heated, as his gaze locked with hers in the mirror. “This is a beautiful dress. I don’t remember you picking this one out with Annette?”

“This dress was my back up dress for our first date. I couldn’t decide which one I liked better, so I bought them both.”

“I loved that velvet dress, but this one is very tempting too. I take it, this isn’t couture?”

“Nope. I think it speaks better if I’m not always wearing fancy expensive dresses. Most people can’t afford that shit, Bruce and I don’t want to lose what makes me, _me_...”

“No, I get it. I have to admit, I do love this color on you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear this color before?”

“Nope. It’s different than anything I’ve ever worn, but I liked it.” She hummed as she smoothed the silk pewter colored dress over her hips.

“I do too.”

Faith went over and grabbed her box of pearls that Bruce had given to her, and he smiled fondly as she handed him the strand to put around her neck. 

Once clasped, he kissed her bare shoulder and whispered emotively, “You’re _perfection_.”

Turning into his embrace, she kissed her husband chastely and murmured, “Thank you.”

They arrived at their destination about forty minutes later, and were immediately greeted by their host and hostess and introductions were made.

“Good evening, Nickolayevna. You look lovely this evening.”

“Thank you, Ivan. And it’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Lebedev.”

“Oh, call me Petra, Your Grace.”

“Thank you. I’d be honored if you would use my given name as well.”

“Of course.” 

Petra followed her husband into the main drawing room, where everyone was congregated. “Have you been enjoying your trip so far?”

“I really have been. There’s been so much to see and learn. I just wish I had more time to spend here, but I’m hoping to come back soon.”

“Ivan did mention about your request to have your Great-grandmother’s remains returned and enshrined with her family?”

“Yes. Vlad stated it might be a few months before everything could be worked out. I just want her to be able to come home, as I know that’s what she’d want.”

“I do believe you’re right.” Petra smiled softly, as they finally joined their guests. 

Faith mingled with Bruce by her side, and she found herself being waylaid by several members of Vlad’s administration, all eager to speak with her.

Oksana was keeping her distance from Vlad, who had his eldest son attending with him this evening. 

Konstantin Pushkin was a head taller than his father, with bright green eyes and a shock of black hair. His features were rather pointed, which only served to make him look more stern and uncompromising.

Faith could feel the man’s emotions quite keenly, and it was _clear_ , he didn’t want to be here. 

Well, that was _interesting_...

It was about twenty minutes later when she noticed Konstantin sidle up to Oksana, and whisper something into the woman’s ear. The young woman’s expression darkened noticeably, and then she moved quickly away, but by the smug smirk on the younger Pushkin’s face, it was clear there was no love lost between the two. 

**Did you catch that?**

_Yes, it would seem they don’t like each other very much._

**That was my thought as well. Do you think he knows or suspects that she might be his sister?**

_I don’t know, Krasivyy, but I don’t think we can discount it either._

Bruce hummed, as he pulled her tighter into his side. 

The rest of the evening was more of the same, and Faith made it a point to talk a little bit to everyone. 

By the time they headed back to the hotel, she was surprisingly—exhausted. 

“Sleepy?” Bruce murmured into her hair, his face buried at her neck as he inhaled her perfume.

“Not quite yet, why?”

“Just curious. You’ve had a rather long and emotional day. I’m so proud of you, Gorgeous. You’re handling all of this so well.”

“Really?” She moved back to she could see her husband better. “Because there’s a part of me that keeps wondering if I’m saying or doing the wrong thing?”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. For the most part, I believe that most of those we’ve come in contact with, are genuine in their regard for you.”

“Not everyone.”

“Oksana?”

“Mmhmm, her emotions were easy to pick up on. She really doesn’t like me at all.”

Bruce didn’t comment, as he led his wife into their ensuite to take a bath. They relaxed for about an hour, and then climbed into bed.

Faith laid her head on her husband’s chest, and wrapped her leg over his, cuddling into his side. He just pulled her more firmly against him, as he kissed her forehead sweetly. 

“Sleep, Gorgeous. Tomorrow will be here, soon enough.”

“M’kay.”


	92. Renegotiating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart and Rona try to figure out how to deal with their loss and each other.

Back in Chicago, Bart and Rona had gone to see Dr. Scott, whom had discreetly run some additional blood tests, as well as referred Rona to a good friend of hers, who was an OB-Gyn, and after a thorough examination and once the blood work had returned, Dr. Scott had let both Bart and Rona know that she’d be completely healed in a week, to take it easy, and that when they were ready—children were definitely possible. 

Rona had listened to Dr. Scott’s words and nodded at the appropriate times, but for the most part?

She’d said very little. 

Bart however, was watching his wife closely, and could tell she was internalizing her pain and anger. 

Once they’d returned back to Rona’s childhood home, Bart inquired if she was hungry, but his wife just shook her head and told him she was going to go upstairs and take a nap. 

He’d tucked her in, and stayed with her until she’d fallen asleep before he went downstairs to call his Secretary. He grabbed his laptop, and did what he did best—

Buried himself in his work. 

That was where Rona found him six hours later, reading through his emails, documents and other paperwork that had been faxed to him from New York. 

She watched her husband covertly, seeing the weariness around his eyes, and the frown lines furrowed on his forehead. He looked like the Bart she’d seen back in New York, when she’d first met him again after those years had passed, and her heart cracked a bit. 

He definitely didn’t _look_ happy...

If anything, he seemed defeated. 

“What are you doing?” She asked lowly, and her husband’s grey eyes lifted, but they weren’t filled with warmth—they were completely closed off. 

“Work.”

She nodded. “Anything interesting?”

“Not really. Did you sleep okay?”

Shrugging, she came over and sat down across from him. “Not really.”

He set his glasses down on the table, closing his laptop and giving her his undivided attention. 

“When do you think you might like to head back to New York?”

Amber eyes averted momentarily, and Bart felt his gut clench at how unsure his wife seemed to be. 

“Do you think it might be better if I stay _here_ for a while?”

“ **No**.” Bart bit out, his jaw clenching with emotion. “I know this isn’t going to be easy for us to get past, Rona. But perhaps you might share with me what you’re feeling?”

“About?”

Bart leaned forward, his grey eyes now blistering...

“Little girl, you’re _angry_ with me. Whether you blame me for the loss of our child...”

“I don’t blame you, Bart. Or at least, I don’t blame solely you.”

“Okay?”

Rona sighed, turning her head to gaze out the French doors that headed down into the back garden. She didn’t want to remember the last time she’d sat in this very room, in this very chair...

“Then what is it?”

“What do you want me to say? That I’m angry at myself, for reacting the way that I did? That I’m pissed at you? For being such an asshole about the entire fiasco? That part of me is devastated at losing our baby, while there’s another part that’s relieved, because maybe we’re just kidding ourselves?”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It _means_ ,” she bit out, “that I’m not convinced you want a kid. I think you believe that you can make the sacrifice, since it’s what I’d wanted, but when faced with the reality? You couldn’t deal. I get that it was a shock. I get that you’d assumed that you couldn’t have kids again without some kind of medical intervention and even then, it wasn’t a guarantee. I get that we weren’t ready, despite what we’d discussed before we got married. But I also _know_ , that neither one of us could’ve suspected that this might’ve happened when it did.”

“No,” Bart shook his head in defeat, “no...little girl. I wasn’t prepared _at all._ Shocked was more like it, and you were right.”

“About what?”

He readjusted himself more comfortably, his expression open yet contrite, “I’ve spent the past twenty plus years, shutting down my emotions. Rona, _I love you_...more than I’ve ever loved anyone—“

“Including Chuck?”

“Different,” Bart was quick to point out, “the love for a child is _different_ than the love for a partner. With Chuck, Evelyn and I had tried for years to have a child, and it didn’t register with me as real, until the second I held Chuck in my arms, and realized in that precise moment, that it was now solely all on _me_. I’d been given the greatest gift anyone had ever given me, but I’d lost something precious that day too. I can’t explain what that moment was like for me, other than to tell you when I was on my way here? Those old feelings rushed back with a vengeance. The loss of another child, and all I knew at that moment was I couldn’t lose you too, little girl.”

“Bart...”

“No, Rona. There’s _no_ excusing how poorly I handled everything. I was afraid, and shocked, and I think I was also angry...”

“At?”

“Having to share you so soon? Even with our own child, I wasn’t ready to share you yet. I’m selfish that way.”

She smirked sadly at him, and Bart could see her processing his words. 

“I’ll admit,” she whispered emotively, “I don’t know what came over me, when I left you. I was _so_ upset, Bart. So angry at you, but I was terrified too. Part of me had to know for sure. There was no way I could go another second without finding out the truth. I also knew, I couldn’t do it with you there, because I was afraid if it was true? You wouldn’t want me anymore.”

Bart hissed out a stunted breath at his wife’s confession, and he was quick to move off his perch, kneeling at Rona’s feet, taking her hands within his own and kissing them both reassuringly. 

“My perfect girl, don’t you understand? As quick as our courtship was, and as much as I’m not the kind of man to act on impulse, you are the _very best thing that’s ever happened to me_. I knew it from that first night we were together and I’ll say it until the day I leave this earth. The Powers brought you to me, and for some reason I’m just only beginning to understand, they put this challenge in our path to show me what truly matters in this life.”

“Which is?”

“Us. _Our family._ I want to have a family with you, Rona. I want to see you grow round with my child. I want to see you holding our child and teaching her all the things only you can. I’d meant it when I told you I’d give you whatever you’d wanted from me. _I still mean it._ So when you’re ready? Just know that I’ll be here, by your side.”

“I really want to believe that.”

“I know. Actions speak louder than words.” He stood up and moved next to his wife, enveloping her into his side and feeling a sense of overwhelming relief, when she sighed in pleasure as he kissed her temple tenderly. 

“I’m not ready to go back to New York yet.” Rona admitted shakily. 

“Okay?” Bart hummed easily. “And do you want to stay here?”

“I don’t know. There’s so many hard memories here too.”

“I get that. Do you think you’ll ever want to go back to the island?”

“Eventually.”

He nodded, secretly relieved that she hadn’t come out and told him _no_.

“How about a compromise?”

“Which would be?”

“You choose where we go next. Anywhere you want to go. Is there a place you’ve always wanted to visit?”

“A few places. I’ve always wanted to go to New Orleans.”

“Your Mom was born there, yes?”

“Mmhmm, she was. Her mother was born there too.”

“Anywhere else?”

She shrugged. “Never been to Northern California. San Francisco, Mendocino, Napa Valley. I hear it’s very pretty there.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I had a classmate at USC that was from Bodega Bay, which is somewhere north of San Francisco. She’d invited me to visit once, and I’d always promised myself I’d go there someday. Drive up the coastal road, maybe see the Redwoods, eat some salt water taffy.”

Bart chuckled at that. 

His wife was such a simple girl at heart. 

“Would you like to fly out there?”

“Really?” Wide amber eyes lifted to his, and he could see a bit of eagerness there. 

“Why not? I think that sounds lovely. I could check to see what the closest local airport is. I know there’s one in Napa somewhere, but my guess is there’s one closer to where you want to go.”

She nodded, and sat up—reaching for his laptop. He chuckled again, pulled it over, and within fifteen minutes, they’d determined that the closest airport, was located in a town called _Santa Rosa,_ and it was a bit over twenty miles from Bodega Bay. Bart made a couple of phone calls, and was able to procure a suitable convertible for them to be delivered to the airport. It took another two hours to find a place to stay... _The Farmhouse Inn,_ in a town called Forestville—near the Russian River. 

His pilot had his jet on standby, and it would be ready to fly out first thing in the morning. 

“Anything else you’d like to do while we’re there?” Bart queried, as Rona was typing the names of various wineries into his browser. 

“This one looks nice.” She pointed to a picture of an idyllic setting and he nodded. “Rochioli Vineyards and Winery.” 

Bart pointed to another one. “Gary Farrell Winery. I’ve tried some of their Pinot, and it’s rather good. We should stop in there, too.”

“Okay.” Rona nodded. “Any others?”

“Many of these look enticing. We could probably spend a month there, and visit a different winery every day.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“Wine?”

Rona nodded and Bart had to think about that seriously, before he shook his head. “I do like wine, and if I had to choose between red or white, I prefer a good red. But I’m more of a Scotch man, in all honesty.”

“I do remember you being a fan of Mccallan.”

“Yes.” He smiled endearingly at his wife, who never ceased to amaze him with how observant she’d been and still was.

“I like tequila.”

“Oh?”

“Sure. But I’m also of a fan of sparkling wines.”

“Good to know.” He chuckled deeply. “And seafood? I hear there’s some excellent places to dine there.”

“I’m game for anything, really.”

“Is there anything here you want to do, before we leave in the morning?”

Rona sighed, but nodded. “Yeah, there is one thing I should do before I leave.”

“Which is?”

Her amber eyes lifted and Bart could see the pained sadness there, and he understood immediately, what his wife needed to do.

“You want to go and visit your Mother’s grave, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Let’s go and do that. I still remember how to get there.”

It took them about thirty minutes to get changed, before they headed out. The drive wasn’t too long, about 40 minutes from Highland Park to Graceland cemetery. The day was cold, but oddly there was very little wind coming off Lake Michigan. By the time they’d reached the cemetery, it was just about to close for the evening. 

Bart drove in and spoke with the director, who’d immediately recognized the Steward name, as generations of Robert’s family had been buried here in the family mausoleum. 

When they finally got to her Mother’s gravesite, Bart could see Rona struggling. 

“Some days it’s hard for me to fathom that she’s been gone for almost fifteen years now.” She placed some fresh flowers in offering, and allowed her husband to pull her back into his embrace. “Sometimes, I wonder why my Dad never remarried.”

Bart hummed thoughtfully at that. “Robert being whom he is, the thought never even crossed his mind that he’d remarry someday. He’s dated a bit, and at one point was seeing someone for about six months.”

“What happened?”

“She was busy with her career, and I suppose got tired of waiting for him to make his sentiments known.”

“Does she live here, in Chicago?”

Bart chuckled and nodded. “She does. You’ve met her.”

Rona blanched as she stared up at her husband, before the truth hit her. 

“Dr. Scott? That’s how you had her number?”

“Yes, little girl. Melanie is a good woman. Her first husband died overseas when she was in medical school. He was in the military, and she’d been devastated. She immersed herself into her work, and became a rather noted surgeon.”

“When did my Dad date her?”

“Not too long after you’d left, I think? Three years ago?”

“Shit. Do you think he cared for her?”

“I do. He was falling pretty hard, but looking back on it now? I think he was more focused on trying to find you, and keep himself from falling apart that he didn’t have the energy to give to Melanie.”

“Well, that explains her reaction when I first told her who I was.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm, she was stunned speechless. But she didn’t press me at all to call my Dad.”

“No, she wouldn’t have. I also might’ve used the situation to everyone’s advantage.” Bart mused. “Robert was floored when he found out who’d helped you.”

“Has he contacted her?”

“No, he’s been more concerned with trying to fix his relationship with you, Rona.”

“Huh, well that makes me feel kinda crappy.”

Bart just chuckled again, as he led her back to his car and they headed back to Highland Park. 

“Maybe we should come back to Chicago, on our way back to New York.”

“What are you thinking, wife?”

“Well, there’s no reason my Dad should be alone anymore. If he still loves Dr. Scott, and she still feels the same for him? Maybe we might encourage them a bit?”

“Sneaky.” Bart nodded. “I do like how you think.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know me, my sweet girl. And for some reason that will likely elude me until I leave this life, you chose me.”

“I did.”

“Are we going to be okay?”

“I suppose so.” She sighed softly. “We’re both to blame for what happened, Rich man. I’d be a hypocrite if I tried to pin the responsibility solely on your broad shoulders. So I guess what I need to know, is how much time do you want to have just us? Before we actively try again for a baby?”

Bart pulled into Rona’s childhood home and parked his car in front of the large estate. As he shut off the car, he considered the question seriously. 

“How about a year?”

Amber eyes averted to gaze out the passenger window briefly, before she nodded slowly. 

“I think a year is good.”

“Birth control?”

“Well, it’ll be another week before I can have sex again, and I suppose we use condoms for now and hope for the best. Unless you’d rather abstain?”

His low growl let Rona know her husband wasn’t on board with that idea at all!

“So, if somehow the birth control fails? Are you going to be alright with the consequences of that?”

“Yes, wife. We do our part, and if somehow, the Powers decide you’re to get pregnant before our time table, we figure it out together, deal?”

“Deal.”

“Good. Now let’s go get some dinner, and then call it an early night.”

“Sounds like a plan.” 


	93. Ruthless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True motivations and secrets abound, on the second to last day of their visit.

The next day, was starting out to be a rather interesting day for Faith. She’d met the potential Slayers with Buffy, Roger and Bruce for breakfast in her suite that morning. The young women were all still teenagers, spoke only Russian and were thrilled to meet her and B. 

Their Watcher’s too, seemed to be eager at the idea of a Slayer training school, which had Faith and Bruce deciding that they’d need to hurry construction along at Wayne Manor with Angel’s help, once they’d returned to Gotham. 

The early afternoon had been spent at the Olympic training center, postponed from the previous day, and as predicted, Minister Grankin’s daughter Tatiana, was on site, working with her fencing coach. 

Faith and Bruce had watched for a while, and even though the young woman was talented, it was clear that her form and technique had some obvious flaws that needed to be addressed. 

It all came to a head about fifty minutes into the demonstration, when Tatiana dropped her right shoulder, opened herself up and feinted, exposing her torso to the killing blow. She ripped off her mask, and strode over to grab a sip of water. Faith glanced discreetly over at Igor, and she could see and feel his embarrassment and frustration. 

Thankfully she’d remembered to dress a bit more casually today. 

Standing up, she moved over to the young woman, who was watching her warily, even though Faith could _feel_ her disdain. 

“Miss Grankin?”

“Your Grace?”

Faith nodded, and went to pour herself a glass of water too. She could now sense the young woman was more curious...

“Forgive me if I’m _overstepping_ , Miss Grankin. But I couldn’t help but notice you have a habit of dropping your right shoulder, which opens you up to attack. You’re also pushing through your footwork...you need to rest a bit more on your left heel when you pivot to the right. That will stop you from dropping your shoulder.”

The young woman scoffed lowly. “And how do you know this?”

Faith sighed, but decided to give this woman a measure of the truth. 

“Before I found out about my heritage? I worked for a covert agency. I’m an _expert_ swordsman, among other things.”

The young woman’s eyes widened, then narrowed in disbelief. “You aren’t much older than myself, how would such a thing be possible?”

“I was called at sixteen.” Faith’s brown eyes bore into the bright blue of the other woman. “I’ve trained in Arnis, Tenshin, Ichi-ryu, Mugai, Iaido, Kenjutsu as well as foil, epee, and saber.” 

“Truly?”

“ _Yes_. Your coach is good. But where you push, he redirects you until you become frustrated. His left side is solid, his right however? His chin drops to the right just before he goes for the killing blow. He knows your weakness, as do several of your counterparts here. Lift your right shoulder to a fifty degree angle when you push forward. Close the space and then pull back and watch what happens, yes?”

Tatiana nodded, and placed her mask back on, while Faith went to sit back in her spot. Bruce gave her a questioning look, but she just winked and silently told him to watch. 

Which he did. 

As before, the foil was quite good and at the singular moment when her coach went for the attack, Tatiana closed her space and moved back, the foil missing its intended target. A few moments later, she managed to take the killing blow for herself, and everyone clapped, including her Father, who was now smiling with pride. 

When she removed her mask, she walked straight over and bowed in thanks. 

“Well done, Tatiana.” Igor praised his daughter, and she nodded proudly. When her coach walked over, he was eyeing Faith speculatively. 

“You know how to use a sword?” He queried in Russian

Faith shrugged. “I get by.” She grinned, and then laughed as the man tossed her his foil and she caught it effortlessly. 

“Then shall we put that to the _test?”_

“Is he serious?” Faith side-whispered to Tatiana and she nodded, while Igor seemed amused. 

_Bruce however, was not..._

Faith glanced at the foil and sighed. 

“Don’t you have anything _sharper?”_

Everyone quieted, while Bruce just shook his head in defeat. 

The coach, grinned and went over and grabbed two sabre’s, and brought one over, and handed it to Faith. 

She felt the weight in her hand, twirled it effortlessly and nodded. 

“Cool.”

She moved to the center ring and watch the man, who’s name she’d been told but couldn’t seem to care to remember, move across from her with a predatory gleam in his eye. 

_Men..._

He didn’t last a minute before she disarmed him.

The shocked gasps of everyone just caused Faith to lift a mocking eyebrow. 

She picked up the sword and tossed it back, taking a ready stance and the second time, he was summarily disarmed in thirty seconds...

She could feel the shock of everyone, except for Bruce...

Who was now _amused_...

She tossed him back his sword for a third time, and based on the sneer as well as his anger?

Faith decided to not waste a second...

Which she didn’t...

_Three seconds..._

That’s all it took...

The dead silence of everyone there, was music to her ears!

“Thanks, that was educational.” She smiled widely, sweeping her sword up in front of her, signaling she was done, and then walking over to her husband, who’s expression was now indulgent. 

Tatiana however, was chuckling lowly. 

“ _Well done_ , Your Grace.”

“Thanks.” Faith winked. “If you really want to win the Gold Medal? I’d be happy to help you?”

Igor’s expression fell into utter shock, while Tatiana’s smile widened. 

“You’re serious?”

“Sure. I mean, I can give you some pointers?”

“I’d be honored, Your Grace.”

“Yes,” Igor bowed his head graciously, “that’s a most _generous_ offer.”

“Well, I’d probably be abysmal with most Olympic Sports, but this one I know a thing or two about! If it was a Winter Olympic Sport, you’d be on your own, Miss Grankin. I can’t ice skate worth a...”

Roger’s stern voice cleared, before she could finish that sentence, and Bruce just smiled at his wife’s disgruntled look. 

“ _Whatever_.” She murmured, half under her breath. 

Everyone laughed. 

“We should probably get going?” Bruce offered, and Faith nodded. 

“Probably. It was great to meet you, Miss Grankin.”

“You as well, Your Grace.”

“I’ll make sure to get in touch once I’m back in the States?”

“That would be wonderful.”

Faith nodded and allowed her husband to guide her from the training center, Igor following them as well as a few other people. 

“You are quite formidable, Your Grace.” Igor admitted with a perfunctory nod. 

“Thank you. Your daughter is very talented. I think she just gets a bit too impatient.”

“Yes. It’s something we’ve discussed over the years.”

“Well, her family name is a big goal to live up to. I can relate.”

Igor replied kindly, “I’d imagine you can.”

“I’m glad we came here today. It was interesting to see.”

“The Sports programs are close to my heart. It provides a way for some to rise above their station in life.”

“I can see that. In the States, we have a really bad habit of putting our sports players on these pedestals. They get paid too much money for something that in reality, doesn’t mean much. But it’s all in marketing, and making people believe in an ideal. Maybe I’m a skeptic, but the Olympics changing their rules and allowing professional players to participate? I’m not a fan.”

Igor nodded sagely. “I would agree wholeheartedly. It’s a bastardizing of the intent of why the Olympics were founded in the first place. These professional sports people, make more money than most people will ever know, yet it’s never enough. They have to selfishly take opportunities away from others.”

“Well,” Faith hummed thoughtfully, “I hate to bring it up, but the most famous of all the Olympic Sports teams in the United States is still the 1980 Olympic Hockey Team.”

Igor smirked and then chuckled. “You weren’t even born yet, yes?”

“Nope. But if I had to sit down and watch the 1980 Hockey team or the 1992 Dream Team? It’s not even a contest.”

“I’d have to agree.” Bruce piped in with a firm nod. “Although, I prefer downhill skiing.”

“Oh?” Faith queried with interest. “Why is that?”

“Adrenaline rush.”

“Of course.” She smirked at her husband, while Igor laughed. 

When they got back to the hotel, Faith had to admit that their initial schedule had mostly been adhered to. A few changes had been made here and there—which had been fine—but tonight they were having a reception at Vlad’s residence here in St. Petersburg, and she’d finally get to meet his wife and younger son, Anton, for the first time. 

The local school visit yesterday afternoon had gone off without a hitch, the students excited to meet her. She’d toured the facility, met the staff and they’d answered all her questions. 

The State Performance last night had been beautiful, and she’d chosen to wear the same dress she’d worn to the ballet in Gotham, along with the pearl necklace that Bruce had gifted her with. 

Now that her pregnancy was starting to show, she cared more about comfort than anything. 

Her dress for this evening was a similar style to the dresses she’d had made for Rona and Violet. She’d loved the look, and had one done in a deep burgundy red, with golden accents. When she came out of their bedroom and into the living area, Bruce was waiting for her looking scrumptious in a three piece Armani suit, black pinstriped, with a light silver shirt and a tie that matched her dress. 

“Looking good, Mr. Wayne.”

Hazel eyes lifted, then widened in lustful appreciation. “Looking _gorgeous as always,_ Mrs. Wayne.”

“Flatterer.”

“Not if it’s the truth.”

She just waved her finger at him playfully. 

“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked and she just shrugged. 

“I don’t know if I’m ever ready, for these things—but it does seem to get a bit easier each time we have to socialize. I’ll also admit I’m curious to meet Vlad’s wife and other son.”

“To see what kind of read you can get?”

“That too. I’m curious if Willow has found anything useful yet.”

“Buffy will tell you as soon as she knows something.”

“I know.” She sighed softly and then allowed her husband to envelope her into his embrace. “Rona texted me a little while ago.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She and Bart are leaving Chicago and heading to Northern California for a few days.”

“That’s a good sign?”

“I thought so too. I’m trying to keep my instincts from wanting to lash out and pummel Bart into a quivering ball of goo.”

Bruce chuckled at that. “ _Seriously?”_

“It works, right?”

“Oddly enough, it does.”

They’d left soon after, when Roger had finally come to fetch them. About an hour later, they were admitted to Vladim’s home, and Faith felt her hackles rising as they entered the Konstantin Palace, one of the former residences of the Romanov family. 

And the name of his oldest son.

_Well, isn’t this a slice of the irony, Krasivyy?_

She could feel Bruce’s emotions, and he too—was rather disgusted.

**Does he live here?**

_Don’t know, but it’s not a coincidence, don’t you think?_

**No, I don’t imagine it would be.**

_Fucking kaznakovi!_

She felt her husband chuckling into her mind, as they found themselves at the front of the queue, being introduced to Irina Pushkin, and their son, Anton. The eldest son, Konstantin...as the previous times she’d seen him? 

Looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Hello, Nickolayevna.” Vladim kissed her cheeks warmly in greeting. 

“Good evening. Lovely home you have here.”

Vlad smirked, and she could feel his amusement as he didn’t reply, but gestured once again to his wife. 

“Irina was instrumental in the redecorating of the palace earlier this decade. It had fallen into disrepair after the Second World War, and is now used as a Summit destination, for foreign leaders when they visit.”

“Oh!” She hummed out thoughtfully, “Seems like a good use for it.”

“Why don’t you two mingle a bit, and we will catch up with you in a little while.”

“Sounds good.”

Faith allowed her husband to guide her over to the other guests, and not too surprisingly, Buffy and John were talking with Blair, Chuck and Robert Steward.

“There she is.” Blair beamed, as she came over and kissed Faith on her cheeks in greeting. “You look like a stone cold goddess in that dress.”

“Thanks, Blair.” Faith smirked, eyeing Blair’s lovely light pink chiffon gown. “You look like a Princess.”

“That was exactly the look I was going for.” She winked, and Chuck actually cracked a smirk, while everyone else just chuckled with amusement. 

“Well, it’s a good thing one of us looks the part then,” Faith bantered playfully, “I don’t think anyone would ever accuse me of looking like a Princess.”

“ _Not true,_ Your Grace.”

Faith sighed inwardly, as she instantly recognized the voice of the woman behind her. Turning around and smiling in welcome, she was quick to note that Oksana Balashova was supplanted firmly on the arm of Konstantin Pushkin. The vibe she was getting, let her know that these two were quite familiar with each other...

_**Strange...** _

Catching Buffy’s eye, her Sister Slayer seemed to be equally stumped too. 

“Miss Balashova, it’s good to see you.” Faith demurred politely. “Have you met Miss Waldorf and Miss Summers?”

“No.” Her eyes narrowed at Buffy, and that was enough for Faith to know that Vlad had indeed, outed B’s true identity.

Konstantin was eyeing B with a predatory gleam. 

_Which John didn’t miss at all..._

Faith made the perfunctory introductions, and they chit-chatted for a bit, until Vlad came over with his wife...

And based on the surge of emotion coming from Irina Pushkin, in the general direction of Oksana, it was clear that the woman knew far more than she was letting on.

_Interesting..._

Then Vlad made the introductions, and Irina considered Blair first, then Buffy...

“So, Miss Summers?” Irina spoke in fairly good English, though quite accented. “Is this your first trip to Russia?”

“Yes it is. Lovely country and so much to see and do.”

“And what has been your favorite so far?”

Buffy smiled up at John, who smirked down at her knowingly—and Faith once again felt several emotions surging from several people, but Buffy calmly replied with, “St. Isaac’s Cathedral was quite charming.”

Faith felt Bruce’s amusement, while Blair just grinned. 

“It _is_ quite the place.” John agreed wholeheartedly, then he turned his blue gaze towards the young Russian pair and asked cheekily, “Is this your companion, Miss Balashova?”

Faith almost lost it at the panic and anger she felt wafting from the four Russian’s in front of her, but even if she hadn’t been privy to their emotions, the look of abject disgust on Irina Pushkin’s face would’ve been all the confirmation she’d needed.

“No, Mr. Daggett,” Oksana smiled tightly, “Mr. Pushkin is an acquaintance.”

“Understandable,” Chuck piped in with his disaffected drawl, “I’d imagine being in your position, it affords you certain personal and professional _intimacies_ with those you work with.”

Vladim cleared his throat, while everyone else just stood there, and it was clear that the tension was now palpable. 

“Your Father is quite the noted businessman,” Konstantin remarked evenly, “Yet he chose to have you come in his stead?”

Chuck’s blue eyes considered the older man with barely veiled amusement. “He’s on his honeymoon as we speak. I do believe he felt it was more important to spend time with his new wife.”

“Ah, Mr. Steward’s daughter and sole Heiress?”

“Yes.” Chuck nodded sharply, eyeing Robert who was smiling. “Rona has quite the mind for business. She recently helped me succeed in a hostile takeover of Payne Global...along with Mrs. Wayne, of course.”

Four sets of eyes immediately turned to Faith, but she just waved her hand like it was nothing. “It was all Rona’s idea. The girl is _ruthless_. I was only happy to help. I find corporate espionage kinda fun, in a twisted way. Besides, this one...” she nudged her husband playfully, and felt his responding deep chuckle, “thinks he’s smarter than me.”

“I never said that, Gorgeous. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Whatever.” 

There was some laughter, but Faith could feel Oksana’s irritation, Vlad’s suspicion and Konstantin’s annoyance and disgust. 

“And want do you do, Mr. Pushkin?” Faith beamed playfully. “Your Dad told me politics aren’t your thing.”

“No, I don’t enjoy it like he does.”

“Ah, what do you enjoy?”

There was now several emotions in play, but the one that had Faith’s radar pinging was _hatred_...

And it took her aback. 

“I work in the private sector,” Konstantin replied evenly, “mostly in technology.”

“Oh?” Bruce interrupted smoothly, “We did have the opportunity to meet Miss Shishpova and her brother, Alexi. I understand he’s quite the mathematical prodigy.”

“Ah, Kon went to school with Tatiana,” Irina smiled proudly at her son, but didn’t feel her husband’s irritation, nor her son’s. 

“I did. Tatiana is a good friend.”

Bruce nodded, and glanced down at his wife, who’s expression was passive, but her emotions weren’t at all. 

_He works in intelligence._

**I got that too, Gorgeous.**

_Didn’t Roger say that Alexi kid was a glorified hacker?_

**Yes, he did.**

_Huh, gotta give Vlad his due. He’s using that kid and his son, to come after us from a different angle._

**You’re thinking?**

_Aren’t you?_

**Yes. Have Willow look into it, and I’ll have Lucius do the same.**

_Five by five._

After a silent confab with Buffy, Faith excused she and Bruce so they could go and mingle a bit more. 

They were just about to leave, when Bruce’s phone pinged. 

It was Alex, his pilot. 

“Wayne.”

“Sir, we have a _problem_.” 


	94. Let’s Make a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Bruce play their hand.

When they got back to their hotel, Alex was waiting for them.

“Do you have it?” Bruce asked and his pilot nodded, sending him the encrypted file. Bruce sat down with Faith glancing over his shoulder, and there in bright color, were two familiar faces, tampering with his jet. 

He sent the file to Lucius, before calling him and telling him to lock it down in the secure server in the Applied Sciences area. 

He then sent a back up to his secondary phone, that was untraceable, (and unhackable), before deleting the primary file in case anyone might think about looking where they shouldn’t be.

“What are we going to do?” Faith asked seriously, her expression pissed. 

Bruce could feel the repressed rage coming from his wife. 

She then closed her eyes and silently called for Buffy, explaining the situation and telling her to get ahold of Willow ASAP and call for reinforcements.

Alex and Roger left their room after another thirty minutes, and Bruce sat back on the couch with his wife in his arms, his expression clearly pissed. 

It was one thing to come after him, but another to try and harm his wife and unborn child. 

_Are you thinking, what I’m thinking?_

He nodded. 

_This didn’t exactly come as a surprise, but I’m wondering just who authorized it._

**You don’t think Vlad?**

_Do you?_

**No, I’m thinking it was his oldest son, along with Oksana. They all know she’s his illegitimate kid, and normally I wouldn’t think it’d be that big of a deal? But somehow, I feel I’m missing something?**

_I know. I’ve been wondering why the secrecy? If his wife and kids know, what’s the issue?_

Faith had to wonder what it was they weren’t seeing. 

People had kids out of wedlock all the time. The fact that they’d kept this hush-hush for this long, was kinda strange, but for some reason, it seemed to be an issue...

Why?

_What if the reason they’ve kept this under wraps has more to do with his wife?_

**You mean, you think she’s the one preventing it from coming out?**

_Maybe? She really seemed to dislike Oksana. Isn’t she older then Konstantin?_

**That I don’t know, but at this point we can’t rule anyone out.**

Sitting there, Faith didn’t know what to think about any of this, but she knew, there was something more going on. 

Answers however, weren’t forthcoming that night and both she and Bruce decided to wait until the morning to see if Willow would get back to them. 

She didn’t until the early afternoon. 

The information had come through a Wolfram and Hart emissary, and that individual had shown up at their hotel suite right after breakfast and before they were set to leave for the Cathedral for the start of the Unity Day celebrations—with a dossier of information. 

Bruce and Faith perused through the documents, and once they were done, Bruce gave the file back to Angel’s employee. 

“Take this back to Wolfram and Hart and lock it down for now.”

“Of course.”

The rest of the day was filled with the kind of pomp and pageantry one might expect from only the most regal of celebrations, so by the time evening fell, and Faith was putting the finishing touches on her outfit for the grand ball, both she and Bruce were just anxious to get this whole fiasco over with. 

Standing in front of the full chevalier mirror in their bedroom, Faith took in her appearance with a critical eye. The dress she’d chosen for this evening was a black chiffon, mermaid style, strapless gown. The gentle swell of her pregnancy was highlighted, as well as her much improved ample bosom. Glancing to and fro, and twirling for effect—Faith sighed with a wistful melancholy. 

She looked _every inch a Grand Duchess,_ and as she glanced down at Anastasia’s necklace in her left hand, her heart clenched with emotion. 

But just as she was about to put it on, Bruce sauntered into their room, fully decked out in back tie and long tails, looking more handsome than she’d ever seen him. 

His eyes widened as they took her in, and she could feel every bit of his stunned wonder and love, as he gazed at her in reverence. 

“ _Fuck me!”_ He whispered with profound awe. “I’m the _luckiest_ man in the world. _**You are beyond gorgeous.”**_

“Thank you.” She whispered with feeling, holding out the necklace for him to help. 

He moved over quickly and took the beloved heirloom, placing it around her neck carefully and clasping it closed. Once situated, Bruce gripped her hips as he settled himself behind her, so they were both gazing at their reflections in the mirror. 

“You look like an Empress.” He said with conviction. 

“I feel like an imposter.” She admitted, half-serious. 

“Gorgeous!” His tone was both equally indulgent and admonishing. “What I see is a woman who was born for greatness. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. Even with all you’ve suffered and faced? You still fight the good fight, and want to make a difference. Your genuine heart, when you choose to open it up and show that side of yourself, inherently attracts people to you. They sense your strength, and fortitude. This is whom you were born to be. You are Nickolayevna, you are a _Romanov_. This is your heritage, your people, your country. No one can ever take that away from you.”

“Are we really going to do this tonight?” She asked evenly. “If we do this, Bruce? There’s no going back.”

“This isn’t for us, Gorgeous. _This is for our son._ This is Damian’s birthright. Whatever comes, the Powers have shown us what we need to do. There is no force in this world, more powerful than you and I don’t doubt that after tonight, everyone will know what I know to be a fact.”

“Which is?”

“That you’re _extraordinary_.”

“You’re just saying that...”

“No, I’m not, Gorgeous. Of all the things I’ve seen in my life, you are the most amazing of them all. You see things more clearly, than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re stronger, braver and fiercer—more resolved to fight the good fight. You don’t back down, you don’t give in. You’re beautiful inside and out. I’m just the lucky man who was chosen to be your mate, and for that boon? I’m eternally grateful.”

Her eyes filled with reluctant tears as she stared up at her husband in wonder. No one had ever seen her they way he did. No one had ever believed in her the way that he did, and no one had ever loved her the way Bruce did. 

“Damn hormones...”

“ _Sure_ , Gorgeous.” He gently wiped away the few that had escaped. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Krasivyy. _So much_. There are some days when it overwhelms me, with how totally in love with you I am.”

“Ditto.” He winked back playfully. “Are we ready to do this?”

“Five by five.”

The ride to the Hermitage was mostly silent. Faith could feel her husband’s emotions, and she was fairly certain, he could sense her’s too. The information that Willow had acquired had left both she and Bruce stunned. 

Never in her wildest dreams had she figured that the true threat to them, had come from more than one person. 

It was hard to fathom, just how in the world this would all play out tonight...but one thing she did know—was that those involved had tried to not only kill she and Bruce, but their unborn child as well. 

And that was _unforgivable_.

When they’d reached their destination, the press was out in full force. For this evening, several foreign news sources had been invited to attend the event. There were three in all. One from the United Kingdom, that attended the Queen on her formal dignitary duties; one from Spain, which also attended the King and Queen in their travels; and one from the States. 

More specifically, the columnist who had broke the story of Blair and Chuck’s dowry and subsequent engagement announcement. 

Apparently, Melissa George was offered the exclusive in exchange for her cooperation in writing that article. 

Blair was rather devious in that way, and she could appreciate her friend’s willingness to play the game. 

As their car pulled up to the entrance, she felt Bruce’s hand squeezing her own in solidarity. 

“You ready for this?” He whispered and she nodded once, unable to give voice to all she was feeling at the moment. 

When their door opened, Faith slid out first, with Bruce following right behind her. In a reversal of etiquette protocol, it would seem that she held the higher position of status, and therefore was always the first out of the car and the last in.

Bruce took her arm, and escorted her into the Hermitage, neither one especially fond of all the cameras flashing in their faces. 

They did stop for a few photographs however, before they were summarily ushered inside, where their arrival was timed perfectly. 

They had arrived just _prior_ , to Vladim, his wife and two sons. 

Once the formal introductions and announcements were made, it was time to mingle. 

And mingle they did...

Luckily, Faith had found Yevgeny early on in the evening, and pulled him aside for a brief conversation. When she was done, his gaze narrowed angrily as he said simply, “I will make the necessary overtures.”

“Thank you.”

The evening progressed in almost slow motion at that point, and Faith had managed to speak with just about everyone there. Her conversations were banal for the most part, but she did make an effort to be engaging and ask lots of questions. 

It also helped that she could feel the emotions of those around her, and for the first time in her life, she actually felt grateful for her Slayer powers. 

Without them, this scenario would’ve been near impossible to get through. 

Bruce kept silently encouraging her too. He was such a planner, her amazing husband. He’d done his due diligence and had researched most of their guests. The fact that he was proficient in so many different languages wasn’t lost on anyone. 

_You’re amazing, have I told you that?_

She could hear Bruce chuckling into her mind as he replied...

**So are you, Gorgeous. I’m so proud of how well you’ve handled all of this. I know this isn’t your play, but you’ve managed to win many of those in attendance over tonight.**

_Well, as much as I hate being sociable, I don’t mind it so much with you by my side._

**Ditto.**

It was a few moments later that Vladim moved their way, and escorted them down the hallway, and when Faith glanced back over her shoulder, she could see a small procession of people following them. 

She immediately _knew_ where they were going, and sure enough?

Her suspicions were confirmed when she came face to face with her prababushka’s portrait. 

She felt Bruce’s hand squeeze her arm gently, but her eyes were locked onto the bright doe eyes of her ancestor, who’s expression in the portrait was nothing short of stoic. Eyes that were shaped so much like her own, stared back at her with a veiled intensity that was hard to miss. 

Then Vladim spoke, addressing the crowd that had gathered there. 

There was his family, including Oksana—Yevgeny, Ivan, Igor, Boris, Gorvan, Zarina, Natalia, and a few other people that she’d met in passing, that were lesser Minister’s in Vladim’s cabinet...

...and most of them from what Yevgeny had shared, weren’t all that loyal to Vlad. 

“So, Nickolayevna? As I’m sure you can guess, this is Anastasia’s portrait, done to commemorate her sixteenth birthday.”

“Yes.”

Vlad smiled at her, and Faith could feel his emotions, were were surprisingly rather genuine in nature. 

_His family however..._

“So when I told you I had a gift for you?”

“You did mention that, but I just assumed it was the yummy Smetannik we had last night.”

Everyone chuckled at that, and Vlad shook his head fondly. 

“No, _this_ is your gift.”

He gestured to the painting and Faith’s eyes widened in shock, and there were a few people there, she could tell, who were stunned as well.

“Are you _sure?”_ She whispered shakily, “As lovely as the gesture is, Vlad? I’d think my grandmother would prefer it if her portrait remained here?”

Vlad lifted an eyebrow, and she could feel his irritation spike. 

“Are you _refusing_ my gift?”

“Not at all.” She was quick to reassure. “But, as you know, I’m just beginning to learn about our customs. How things work here? There’s so much that I still don’t know, but one thing I feel strongly about is that whatever has happened? I know that this portrait belongs in Russia. I would feel selfish taking such a piece of history and keeping it for myself? As much as I’d love to wake up each morning and see this hanging on the wall of Wayne Manor, I just have to wonder if that is what she would’ve wanted.”

Faith could sense her words were having a profound effect on a few of those there, but she could also feel the rage and anger from some of those watching the scene, so she decided to use this to her advantage. 

“Maybe a compromise?”

“In what way, Nickolayevna?”

“Well?” She swallowed and tried to appear nervous, when in reality this couldn’t have worked out better if she’d planned it herself. “If you were _willing?_ Maybe Bruce and myself could buy a small home here or in Moscow, and have the painting moved there?”

Vlad eyed her distrustfully, but surprisingly it was Gorvan who spoke up in her defense. 

“I think that is an _excellent_ suggestion.” He replied evenly. “Something of this importance should be kept close at hand, and Her Grace is _correct_ in that regard. Having a domicile of her own, would also be appropriate. It would serve to lay the foundation for continued relations and opportunities that would only serve to benefit Russia in the long term.”

Stark blue eyes glared at his Minister, before he turned to her and chuckled. “Well _played_ , Nickolayevna. I had almost believed that you were sincere in your wish to remain separate from politics.”

She just grinned right back, as the time for games was _over_. 

“And I almost believed you were sincere, when you said you wished me no harm.”

She felt his confusion before he spoke, and it was then she _knew_...that he’d had no part in the sabotage. 

“Please explain that comment, young lady!”

She gazed up at Bruce, and he brought out his secondary phone, bringing up the video that Alex had sent him and turned his phone around so they all could see the display and then he hit the play button...

And they watched the looks of horror, anger and shock on the faces of those there...

_For on the screen..._

Was Alexi Shishpov and Yuri Kulik, tampering with the Wayne Jet and placing what looked to be some kind of explosive on board. 

When the video was done, Faith folded her arms and then said softly, “Gio, you _here?”_

The Immortal melded out of the shadows, his countenance supremely smug, and then several of those under his command, moved out of the shadows as well. 

“Vlad, meet Giovanni Medici, the _Immortal_. He’s also the one who ferried my grandmother out of Russia. I know you had nothing to do with that bomb being placed on our jet, but I _know_ who did.”

Faith’s eyes then flittered to Vlad’s family, including Oksana, and the vampires moved behind them all.

“Your lovely wife and eldest son, have been working with your illegitimate daughter and Miss Shishpova for the past two years, embezzling state funds for their own personal use...or should I say, business use? Mr. Kulik, has been making overtures into shady dealings with a few unsavory characters in Ukraine, Syria and a few other places. When Bruce placed Oksana on the spot the other day, demanding more information about Russia’s finances, she panicked. Didn’t you?”

Faith turned the full weight of her stare onto the woman, who was sneering at her with venom behind her eyes, but Vladim just bit out, “Is this _true?”_

Konstantin nodded. “It is. You have spent far too much time ignoring the fact of what Russia needs and left us no choice.”

Vladim strode to his son, and slapped him soundly across the face...

_And everyone flinched..._

“That is not for you to say, _you ungrateful child!_ ” He then turned to Oksana, and for the first time, the woman appeared fearful. “And _you!_ Did I not do right by you? Giving you an education, and allowing you a place amongst my cabinet?”

“And yet, you _refused_ to acknowledge me!” She hissed out angrily. 

“Because you _don’t deserve it!”_ Irina bit out spitefully. 

Faith just chuckled again, and all eyes turned to her. “This is like some bad family soap opera, and frankly? I couldn’t care less who deserves what here! What I do know, is you tried to have not only myself and my husband killed, but my unborn _son_.”

There were a few sharp intakes of breath, and Faith just nodded and forged ahead. “If you think for one second, I’m going to let this slide?” She tsked and waved her finger in the negative, then closed her eyes and called for Buffy, who was also close by, waiting to be summoned. 

“I _am_ the Slayer, as is my Sister here. We don’t take too kindly to anyone thinking that they can harm us. Gio here is a trusted friend, and I have many more where that came from. So here’s the deal? I was actually happy playing my part for the greater good, but now it seems that my priorities have changed.”

“And they would _be?”_ Vladim asked, his voice like ice. 

“A compromise.”

“In what way?”

“You will reinstate the Romanov family to its _rightful_ place. When your tenure comes to an end? My son, will be named Czar.”

Vlad actually laughed and shook his head. “Dearest child, you have _no claim.”_

“Oh?”

“Yes. The right of succession would need to be acknowledged not just by blood, but by law.”

“And how would that work?”

Yevgeny spoke up, “It would need to be written down.”

“So a direct acknowledgement?” Faith asked, and Yevgeny nodded. When she glanced around to the other Minister’s, they all too, nodded. 

She opened her purse and pulled out the letter from her grandfather. 

She handed it to Yevgeny...and after he silently read the words, his eyes lifted in triumph. 

_And then he read it..._

And the silence was rather funny. 

“It’s _not_ enough.” Vlad said finally. 

Faith then pulled out the coronation ring, that Gio had given her and handed it to Yevgeny. 

Who _hissed_ in awe. 

“What is it?” Gorvan asked. 

“Czar Nicholas coronation ring.”

There were several murmurs, but Vlad shook his head again...

“This is _not_ proof, Nickolayevna.”

She sighed and then walked over to the sconce that her grandfather had shown her, turned it as directed and as promised...the panel gave way. 

The expressions on everyone’s faces were rather priceless. 

When she opened the panel, her eyes widened at what was inside, and her eyes teared at the visage before her. 

For there in all its glory, was the real _Imperial Crown..._

She lifted it up gently, and carried it out into the hallway, and when she came into view, the shock was palpable. 

But what came next, _floored_ her...

Yevgeny was the first to drop to his knee, followed by Ivan, then Gorvan, Igor, Boris...and the rest of Vlad’s Ministers...

Bruce followed suit, as did Gio and his vampires. Buffy grinned and curtsied in respect, as did Zarina and Natalia. 

The tears in her aunt’s eyes, were filled with true happiness and light.

When Faith’s dark eyes turned to Vlad and his family, the portrait of Anastasia came to life...

_Her eyes blinked and she smiled widely..._

This caused Vlad to gasp, and Faith grinned back over her shoulder, and winked at her Grandmother.

“The choice is _yours_. We both know that you’re not long for this world.”

Vlad hissed and paled. “How do you _know_ that?”

“Slayers have the gift of Prophecy. My Grandfather advised me of this, as well as few other things. My son, Damian Nicholas Thomas Wayne is destined for this.” She lifted the crown slightly. “You can either play along, and we can do this the easy way? Or not?” She shrugged, but everyone there knew Faith’s words were no idle threat. “Whatever you might wish to believe, Vlad...in your _heart_ , you know this is what needs to be done. I’m willing to let the attempted murder of my family slide for now, if you’d be willing to compromise and do what’s right.”

“And if we refuse?” Irina challenged. 

“That would be _unwise_.” Gio spoke up succinctly, before his face and those with him morphed into their vampiric state, causing a few of those there to hiss in fear. “Nickolayevna is correct in that her resources are formidable. The covens have granted me permission to state here and now, _that she has our support_. If you refuse to do this, we will come for you. You might believe that your technology will save you, but that is _folly_. There are forces in this world that are _immune_ from such things. Forces that fear nothing and no one but the Slayer and her powers.”

Faith smirked and nodded her thanks to Gio.

“So, Vlad? Do we have a deal?”

“And just what is in this for me?”

“Other than your family?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It is my _family_ that has put me into this position.”

“True.” Faith replied softly, before her gaze landed on each of them and she said, “Irina is angry at you, and feels you don’t _value_ what’s she’s given you. It was due to her family connections that you were able to rise to the position you’re in now. She knows she wasn’t your choice of bride, and she’s known about Oksana for far longer than you’ve suspected. If I had to guess based off her emotional state, I would say she knew from the beginning, am I right?”

Irina paled and nodded. 

Faith then turned to Konstantin and forged on...

“You’re angry at your Father, not only because his politics are outdated in your eyes, but because you know he wouldn’t approve of your _choices.”_

The eldest Pushkin son glared at her in warning. 

“You’d hoped that the blame for my death would be placed solely on your Father and it would force him out of politics. This was the only way you could see to get what you’d wanted, correct?”

The young man nodded, clearly stunned.

Faith then turned to Oksana and grinned. 

“You’re angry not only due to the fact that he won’t acknowledge you as you feel you deserve, but that all the hard work you’ve put into this job, is not exactly the outcome you’d hoped for. You wish to succeed him, but you knew that would never happen as long as he refused to claim you as his child. Getting me out of the way served two purposes for you. One was revenge, and the second was strategic. Your position in the government assured, you would stay while he would be thrown to the wolves. He’d need you, if he wanted to keep any kind of political ties, correct?”

The woman’s eyes widened in shock, as she blurted out, “How do you know all this?”

“Please!” Faith smiled in her predatory way. “Like it’s hard to figure out?” She then turned her attention back to Vladim and cocked her head almost coquettishly. “So, deal?”

He gazed over to his Minister’s and they all nodded in unison, and he knew he didn’t have a choice at this point. 

“Very well.”

“Thank you.” Faith replied sincerely. “I have one other request.”

“ _Request?”_

“Fine. Bruce and I would like to find a place for us here, and a place where Damian can be born. He _needs_ to be born here, Vlad.”

“It would make things easier, that is true.”

Faith glanced over to Yevgeny and he nodded. 

“Then perhaps tonight, we can make an announcement that we intend to have a residence here as well as me taking on an Ambassador role, which will smooth the transition.”

“You would not wish to be Czarina?”

“No, that’s not a role I’m destined to play. My Grandfather was _very specific_ in that this here, is for Damian. We all want what’s best for Russia. I’m willing to do my part in that. You have good people here, Vlad. _Good people_ who value tradition and love our country. I think that alone, will be your greatest legacy. Don’t you?”

Vlad hummed in respect. “Spoken like a true politician, Nickolayevna.”

“I prefer the direct approach.” She bantered back, earning a few chuckles and nods of agreement. 

“What should we do with that?” Yevgeny spoke and gestured to the Imperial Crown and Faith sighed, before walking over and placing it back into the secret room. 

“Can you keep guard, Gio? Until all the guests have left?” She queried, as she shut the panel closed. 

“I’m at your service, Your Grace.”

“Thank you.”


	95. Future Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Bruce get a final surprise, and plans are made for their future.

The rest of the evening seemed to flow by with far less tension than the earlier part. About thirty minutes after their little confab, Vlad made the announcement that Faith and Bruce would be maintaining a residence in Russia and that she had agreed to take on the duties of an Ambassador for the State. There were endless questions from the press, but all in all—it seemed as if a tentative detente had been reached, which benefited everyone. 

They were just about to head back to where they’d left Giovanni, when Faith was waylaid by Konstantin Pushkin. 

“Your Grace.”

“Mr. Pushkin.”

She could feel several emotions wafting off the man, the primary of which was agitation. 

“I feel as if I owe you an apology.”

“For what?” She replied back evenly, “For trying to have me and my family _killed?”_

His heavy sigh was to be expected. “Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t entirely my idea?”

“Probably. But it doesn’t excuse what you tried to do. If it wasn’t for my son, I would’ve retaliated in kind. I understand your frustration, and all I can tell you is your secret is safe with me, for _now_.”

She smirked, and Konstantin nodded. “So you know?”

“I guessed, but my guesses tend to be spot on. Alexi?”

“Yes.”

“Does your mother know?”

“She does.”

“And she approves?”

“Not as such, but she just wants me to be happy.”

“And Oksana?”

The young man’s brow furrowed, and then he sighed again. “I’m not sure I understand?”

“Was this _her_ idea and did she blackmail you to go along with it, or did you do it willingly?”

The man chuckled, and then eyed Bruce, who was openly glaring at him. 

“You’re as formidable as my Father stated you were. But _yes_ to both.”

“I see.” She hummed and then smirked again in that way of her’s. “I’m sure your Father is going to want a full accounting of what you’ve been up to these past two years, so if I were you? I’d be honest with him. Yuri Kulik isn’t a good guy, and I’d imagine there are more where he’s come from. So how about a deal?”

“Which is?”

“I know that Tatiana works in intelligence, as do you. Give your Father the names of those working with Kulik, those who might be a threat to legitimate business capital. Help your Father clean up the mess you’ve made, or I will do it for you.”

“And how would you do that?”

“ _Permanently_.”

A lifted eyebrow was all she got in response, but based on the subtle bow of his head, she was fairly certain he’d gotten her message loud and clear. 

She then led Bruce down the corridor and back where her Grandmother’s portrait was, and she smiled when she noticed Zarina and Natalia standing there. 

“Hello, Aunt Zarina.” 

“Nickolayevna!” The older woman kissed her cheeks warmly, and then pulled her closer to the portrait. “It’s amazing how much you both look alike.”

“That’s a lovely compliment.” She demurred quietly, taking in her grandmother’s stoic facade. 

“How did you know that was there?” Natalia inquired gently, gesturing to the wall. 

“On our honeymoon, I had a dream. I was here, as was Grandfather. We sat right over there,” she pointed to a chaise that was near the far wall, “and he shared with me a few things. One of which was about the secret room.”

“I didn’t think I’d live to see this come to pass,” Zarina admitted shakily, “but now that it’s here? I can finally face my end, knowing that our family will rise again.”

She turned to her Aunt and smiled. “In my dream, I did see a portent of my future.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I saw Damian, he was about ten? He was sitting with Grandfather and his two younger siblings.”

Zarina gasped, (as did Natalia), and she placed her hand over Faith’s stomach. “And their names?”

“Michael Alfred Alexandrovich Wayne. He will be born two to three years after his elder brother. Their sister will come a few years later.”

“A daughter!”

“Yes. Zarina Anastasia Martha Wayne.”

Zarina’s bright eyes welled with tears, and she couldn’t help but respond to the emotion so evident there. Natalia came over and gripped her arm, and nodded in gratitude. 

“That’s a perfect name.” Natalia offered, and she nodded. 

“That’s what I thought, too.” She leant down and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “You should return to the hotel, and get your rest.”

“Of course.” Zarina allowed Natalia to take her arm, but before she left she said emotively, “I’m very proud of you, Nickolayevna. And I know our family would be too.”

“Thank you, Aunt Zarina.”

Both she and Bruce watched them go, and she felt her heart fill with so much emotion, as she knew that Zarina’s time on this earth was coming to an end. 

Hopefully she’d live to see Damian born. 

She felt Bruce’s lips as they made purchase on her temple, and she sighed in contentment. 

“I’m proud of you, too.” He whispered.

“Oh?”

“Yes. You did good tonight.”

“I just hope it works.”

“It will.” A heavily accented voice moved out of the shadows, and she smiled at the vampire. 

“Are you a _Seer_ , Gio?”

“Not as such, but I do have some gifts.”

“Of _course_ you do.” She battered back with a smile. “I was surprised that the covens gave their support.” 

“You shouldn’t be,” he replied with a toothy grin, “young vampires may see nothing more than the hunt and kill, but for the Elders? We do understand the wisdom of _alliances_. It’s how we’ve lived as long as we have, and will continue to do so.”

She hummed, moving over to the wall and twisting the sconce, pushing open the door carefully and when she went inside, the crown was still there, but it was then she noticed a few other things against the far wall. She opened her purse and grabbed her cell phone, turning on the flashlight and her breath caught...

“Gorgeous?”

Bruce peered inside the room, with a worried frown, as he had felt her emotions surge. 

“ _Oh my God!_ ” She whispered out on a shocked breath. She glanced over her shoulder and motioned for Bruce to come in, and when he did—his eyes immediately caught sight of what had gotten his wife’s attention. 

For there, propped up on the wall were two paintings. 

One was of herself, probably a good seven or eight years younger than she was now. Her features were painted in sharp relief and it was clear that whomever had done the work, had taken painstaking care to get her features just so. 

But it was the second picture that _threw_ her...

_It was a painting of Bruce, she and their three children..._

At exactly the same ages she’d seen in her dream. 

She picked up the painting, and immediately noted the background...

The Alexander Palace...

“Shit.” Bruce huffed out in surprise. “Is that?”

“Yes. Those are our children.”

She felt his arm wrap around her waist, as he studied the painting intently. 

“Who do you think painted this?”

“I don’t know.”

She called for Gio, and he moved into the small space. She gestured to the crown and said firmly, “Place it into its case there, and take it. I will call for you when we have need of it?”

“Of course.” 

Gio reverently settled the priceless treasure into its confines, and then disappeared as silently as he’d appeared, with his entourage in tow. 

She knew it would be in safe keeping. 

She took the smaller portrait and Bruce grabbed the larger one of their family, before they moved out and she closed the panel once more. When she turned around, Yevgeny and Ivan were standing there. 

“I take it you’ve made sure the Imperial Crown is _safe?”_

“Giovanni has it for now. When the time is right, he’ll return it.”

Both men nodded, and then Yevgeny noted the paintings and his eyes widened in awe. 

“Those _are_...”

“Yes.” Bruce nodded. “They were in the room, too.”

Yevgeny asked for permission, and they both nodded. He took the painting of Faith and they could see him eyeing it speculatively. He glanced up at her and frowned. 

“You are younger in this portrait.”

“Yes. That’s how I looked when I was a teenager.”

He then glanced down at the painting Bruce was holding, and he hissed out a stunted cough. Ivan too, seemed rather stumped, as his face paled heavily. 

“Is _this?”_

“Yes. The Powers have already shown me that Bruce and I will have three children. These are them. When my Grandfather shared with me where the secret room was, he was also with my children at the same ages that you see in this painting.”

“This background is the Alexander Palace.”

“Yes, I noticed that, too.”

Yevgeny gestured to Ivan, and the other man nodded in silent understanding. 

“I will speak with Vlad, but I would tend to think that this painting was done there for a reason.”

Bruce’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “This is _where_...”

“Yes.” Yevgeny interrupted with a nod. “It might take me some time to make the necessary overtures and arrangements, but I would tend to think this would be a suitable compromise.”

She gave Yevgeny an inscrutable look, one in which he’d come to recognize on the young Romanov. 

He just chuckled and shook his head. 

“Nickolayenva, I’ve already spoken with your husband about this.”

“He told me, but I don’t agree. I think you would be _perfect_ , and as much as you might disagree and prefer being a sneaky diplomat, your country will need you more here.”

“She’s right, old friend.” Ivan offered kindly. “There is no one who understands the nature of tradition and politics better than you.”

Sharp green eyes considered his friend, before he turned back to the young couple and inquired, “How much time?”

“Five to ten years.” Bruce replied evenly. “That’s just a hunch, mind you...but from everything we’ve learned, I tend to think he’s got no more than that. I’m unsure of how the transition of power would be handled with Damian being under age, but...we’d need to be ready in five with a firm plan.”

“You and your plans.” She bit out fondly.

“I’m a man who likes a plan. Sue me.”

She grinned and then turned to Ivan. “Would you be willing to come home, too?”

“I _would_. As much as I’ve enjoyed my various positions, this is where I’ll need to be.”

“Thank you, Ivan.”

“It’s not a problem, Your Grace. If it gives you a measure of comfort, each Minister I’ve spoken with this evening, is willing to serve as well. I do believe this night has served to unite my counterparts in such a way, that nothing has in a very long time.”

“I’m glad.”

“What would you like to do with these paintings?”

She sighed at them forelornly, but realized that perhaps it might be best to keep them here. 

“I think for now? I’d like these moved somewhere secure. Perhaps if what you’re plotting comes true, then we can put them back where they belong.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea.”

Yevgeny and Ivan each took one of the portraits, while Bruce and Faith watched them go with a heavy heart. 

Once they were alone again, she hummed—moving into her husband’s embrace. 

“I’m _exhausted_.”

“Let’s get you back to the hotel then.”

She nodded and together they made their way back out of the Hermitage where their car was waiting. 

The ride was silent as Faith just cuddled into her husband’s side, his head turned so his nose was buried in her hair, his soft inhalation’s of her scent seeming to calm his own frazzled nerves. This here, their bond—was something she’d never thought in a million years she’d ever have, but knew without a shadow of a doubt, was what she’d needed more than anything. 

Bruce was her _rock_ : unwavering and strong. It didn’t matter what life threw their way, she knew they would always brave the unknown together.

Early the next morning, Bruce had left for the airport, along with John Daggett and Robert Steward to check on the Wayne Jet, as well as all the other private aircraft that had ferried their friends and family into Russia. Thankfully, his jet was the only one tampered with, and it didn’t take him long to make the necessary repairs. 

John had helped, and Bruce could tell he was rather upset about the situation. But to his credit, he didn’t react nor threaten retaliation, he just quietly kept his own countenance and then proceeded to share that he and Buffy would be heading to London to meet her sister, Dawn. 

Robert had gotten a call late the evening prior, from Bart Bass. 

It would seem that Bart and Rona had left Chicago for the West Coast and were currently in Northern California, wine tasting their way through the Russian River area, and despite their loss, they were really trying to work it out. Bruce figured they’d tell Robert about the miscarriage when they were ready. 

Back at the hotel, lunch was enjoyed with their guests, who were all returning to their homes later that same day. Faith made sure to _thank_ everyone for attending, with plans being made for visits to London, Barcelona and Monaco in the near future. 

Blair, Lily and Eleanor made it a point to invite Faith and Bruce back to New York for Christmas Eve at Lily’s home, and it was an invitation they were only too willing to accept. 

Bruce was happy for his wife. 

She was making new friends, and trusted contacts. She never ceased to amaze him with how people gravitated towards her natural aura. Her power was tangible, and even if he knew why that was, it didn’t negate the fact that she was like a flame, surrounded by swarms of moths who just wanted to be near her warmth. 

He could relate. 

She’d _enchanted_ him too, and he’d never been happier in his life to be so ensnared.

When her gorgeous doe eyes locked with his from across the room, he winked and her beaming smile made his breath hitch as it always did. 

His wife was light and love...

... _and he loved her endlessly._


	96. Finders Keepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning back to Gotham, Faith and Bruce share some quality time together.

They’d returned home safely a few days later, after making a brief stop in Moscow, and also in Los Angeles. When Angel had been informed of the exact particulars of what had transpired with Bruce’s jet, Faith could tell he wasn’t happy at all, but it was Spike’s reaction that was telling...

He’d just frowned and then stormed out of the room.

Bruce had inquired as to where Spike was going, but Angel hadn’t replied other than told them both not to worry about it. 

Faith knew better than to push her best friend, and she also knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t let this slide either.

Violet it seemed, was doing quite well with her training, according to Angel and she was also spending quite a bit of time with Zac Daggett.

She was keeping her opinions to herself, but secretly hoped that Vi could find someone she could trust after everything she’d been through with Crane.

Once they landed in Gotham, however, as per usual, the press was out in full force. 

A fact both she and Bruce abhorred, but sadly she was getting used to their intrusiveness. 

Baba and Yaga had been besides themselves when they’d walked out the elevator, rushing to greet them effusively. She’d instantly dropped to her knees and had lavished them both with attention, while Bruce just shook his head endearingly at her. 

Alfred too, was smiling at the scene. 

“They’re happy to have to both home.” Was all the older man said. 

Currently, they were cuddled on the sofa in Bruce’s office, with Baba on her left, his head in her lap while she petted him absently, and Yaga on the floor at Bruce’s feet, his legs up in the air, fast asleep. 

“How do they sleep like that?” Bruce asked, shaking his head fondly at how comfortable Yaga appeared in slumber. 

“I have no idea.” She replied. “They like to sleep in the most uncomfortable positions.”

Bruce chuckled at that. “I’ve never had any animals growing up.”

“No?”

“Nope. I think it was because my Mom wasn’t too fond of the idea of animals running around the Manor.”

“Eleanor mentioned to me when I was in New York the last time, that your Mom had been an interior designer before she married your Dad.”

“She was.” He confirmed. “She was quite good at it, too.”

“Did she have her own business?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted with a slight frown. “I only remember my Dad telling me proudly when I was younger, that Mom had redone all the rooms in the Manor after my Grandfather passed away. There were certain rooms I wasn’t allowed in, but not many. Rachel and I used to play hide and seek a lot when we were younger and that’s how I ended up falling into the well. I was hiding from her.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. We’d make up games. _Finders keepers,_ that sort of thing? She had found an arrowhead on the property, and we were hiding in the greenhouses when she showed it to me. I snatched it away from her, yelling out... _finders keepers._..and went to hide behind some bushes, when I fell into the well and broke my arm. The bats in the underground caverns were spooked and flew out, surrounding me. It terrified me. Rachel went and found Alfred and my Dad, and he rappelled down and saved me. My parents were killed not too long after that.”

She listened to Bruce, and could feel his sorrow and guilt, but oddly it wasn’t as all consuming as it had been previously. 

“I know you did get a chance to talk with them...”

“I did.” He lifted her face up to his and smiled softly. “A fact I’m ever so grateful for. I think it finally helped me to put the past where it needed to be.”

“That’s good.”

“It is,” he admitted, “so thank you, for that.”

She just shrugged. “I’m just glad that you had that chance, Bruce. As much anger as I hold at my own Father for what he did to my Mother, and by extension, me—I know on some level that things happen for a reason. When I was younger, the anger and rage I held inside me was unbearable some days. So I took that anger out, when I was Slaying. Now, after going to Russia and seeing everything come full circle, I think I get it now.”

“And that is?”

“I wouldn’t have been able to face my heritage, had I not gone through everything I have. Being called as a Slayer, there was a reason I’ve faced so much death and loss. It forced me to fight. To not give in and it also gave me the tools to survive. Death is easy, but living is hard.”

“It is, but survival is just going through the motions. Everyday after my parents died, until the day I met you, that was my reality. There was no joy, no purpose beyond Batman. Beyond my rage and guilt. My Mom and Dad told me to find peace, and to let go of my guilt. My Mom also reminded me to make sure that you knew _everyday_ , that you’re my **everything**.”

She smiled and buried her head into his chest, feeling her traitorous emotions spike.

He just chuckled, as he could feel his lovely wife’s loss of control. 

“You _are_ , you know?” He whispered lowly, into her ear. “ _ **My absolute everything.**_ I’ve never imagined, that I could have the love and life I have with you, before I met you. I’d resigned to living a half life...”

“Even with Rachel?”

He hummed, considering his wife’s question with all due seriousness. 

After a moment he nodded. 

“Even with Rachel.” 

“Why?”

“Because as much as I cared for Rachel, loved her even, there was a part of me that knew I couldn’t protect her from me. From my darkness and the life I’d chosen to lead. I can’t walk away from being Batman. _Not now._ Before, I’d erroneously thought it was possible, but I was deluding myself. I’m Bruce Wayne, but I’m also Batman. I can’t separate my duality anymore. Maybe, at one time I could have, but not now.”

“You shouldn’t have to, Bruce. It took me years to accept my Slayer powers. To find that balance between light and dark. The darkness is a part of me, and it’s never going to go away. The things I’ve seen...the things I’ve done?” She shook her head. “I can’t deny that side of me that craves that darkness. It’s like a drug, that you can lose yourself in. It’s like Icarus.”

He grinned, pulling his wife’s face back up to his. “You know the myth of Icarus?”

“Yep. Except where Icarus chose to get too close to the sun, Slayers can fall too far into the darkness. I’m sure I wasn’t the first Slayer to succumb to its lure, and I know I wasn’t the last.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we activated the Scythe, as you know, Slayers from all over the world were called. There was one, Dana—you see, all Slayers have a connection to the lives of the Slayers before them, and these memories come to us in the form of dreams, but Dana's unstable mental state, caused her to experience those visions while she was awake. She acted out, reliving horrific moments from deceased Slayers for brief periods of time, even speaking in their native tongues, and making drawings of various girls killing demons. She was in an institution, as she’d been kidnapped as a child and well...what I’d gone though was nothing compared to Dana.”

“What happened to her?”

“She was too far gone. Buffy and Giles sent Andrew...and don’t get me started on him...”

He chuckled at his wife’s look of abject disgust. 

“Not a fan?”

“Fuck, no! He fought with us in Sunnydale, if you can call what he did fighting, but he’s in London now and he needs to stay there.” She shivered and then sighed. “Anyway, Dana killed herself a couple years ago. She couldn’t handle the darkness, and it eventually swallowed her whole. Buffy tried her best to save her, but she was beyond saving.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. There have been times in the past few years, once I’d become aware of Dana, that I’d realized that could’ve easily been me. That as bad as my life had been...”

“There’s always someone out there who’s had it worse.” He finished for her, and she nodded. 

“It didn’t change my feelings about ending my life...but I suppose it made me try harder to get up each day and try to live.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.”

“Your sonogram is in a few days.” 

She grinned at her husband’s not so obvious change of subject. 

“It is.”

“Are you excited?”

“Yes, and I know you are too.”

“I am. I did get to see a bit of Damian in the vision I had with my parents. My Mom was holding him.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and I can’t wait to meet him. I can’t wait to see you holding him in your arms.”

She rubbed her stomach and smiled softly when Bruce’s hand covered hers. “And I can’t wait to see you holding him, too.”

They spent the next bit of time, just fixated on their unborn son, and he seemed to already know his parents were there, as he rolled around a few times for their benefit, causing them both to smile in wonder. 

“That’s so cool.”

“I know,” she huffed a laugh, “life sometimes, can be rather amazing.”

“It really is.” Warm hazel eyes locked with hers and she could see and feel Bruce’s emotions surging. 

There was love, happiness, possessiveness, wonder and a smug intensity that made her own smile widen. 

“I love you.”

“And I love you, Gorgeous. I fall more in love with you everyday.”

“Ditto.”

The rest of their evening was spent just the two of them, along with Baba and Yaga, who had taken up their favored spot by the corner window, their keen gazes watching the scenery outside, and she could feel their curiosity, as they seemed fixated on something of interest. 

“How did you find out their names?”

“Huh?”

“Baba and Yaga,” Bruce clarified, “how did you find out their names? I’m fairly certain that night their names weren’t mentioned by the Chechen.”

“Nope, they weren’t.”

“Then how?”

She hummed, snuggling into her husband’s chest and making herself a bit more comfortable before she answered his question. 

“It was a fluke, really.”

“In what way?” 

“Well, when I got them back to my old apartment, I didn’t know their names, obviously. I can sense their emotions, and with animals it’s fairly straightforward. Happy, sad, protective, curious...anyway—I’d guessed that the Chechen had given them Russian names, so I picked some names I knew from when I was a kid, and asked...”

“And when you got to Baba and Yaga?”

“It was actually the third name I picked. When I said Baba, he barked. So I knew that was his name. Same thing happened with Yaga...”

“Huh, and here I thought you could speak with them?”

“I can, in a way. They understand me and can sense me, like I can with them. Animals are far better at picking up human emotions than we are. They feel things very intensely.”

“And that night? How did you turn them so quickly?”

“I growled at them, and they sensed my power. They recognized me as their Alpha, and that was that. They are very loyal and smart. The Chechen would starve them to get them to do his bidding, and in that way, he tried to force their loyalty. That doesn’t work with most animals long term.”

“I can understand that.”

She sighed. “I know we talked about going away at some point before Damian is born, but I’m not going to take another trip, unless they can come too.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Faith, you do know that dogs aren’t allowed in the Maldives, right?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, but I did some checking on that island, and I was wrong when I’d said it was located within the Maldives chain of islands. It’s actually part of the Seychelles, which _does_ allow dogs. Our island is off Marraine Island, about one hundred miles northeast.”

“How did Diana Payne manage to get her hands on that piece of real estate?”

“I don’t know. Roger is still working on the paperwork for us, and has been in talks with the government there. I had to make a financial donation in order to keep the transaction private, and they were only too happy to approve the sale.”

“How much?”

“Bruce...”

“Gorgeous, how much?”

“The cost of the island was about $150 million, and the donation was about half that.”

He shook his head in exasperation. 

“And how much money did you spend on the takeover of Payne Global?”

“A little less than $400 million.”

He sat back and eyed his wife critically. “And Wayne Manor?”

“Blair said it would take about $120 million to furnish it completely.”

He added up the numbers quickly and sighed. “Gorgeous, that’s almost three-quarters of a billion dollars.”

“And?” She rolled her eyes. “That’s not even half of my interest account, Krasivyy. Besides, the money I invested in Payne Global will make me money, in the long run.”

“True.”

“And wasn’t it you, who made the comment about us being disgustingly rich?”

“Yes, it was.”

“I sent fifty million to the IWC accounts too. According to Karl, my interest account replenishes at the beginning of each fiscal year.”

“I think I did read something to that effect in the portfolio that he sent to Lucius.”

“You know me, Krasivyy and I don’t care about stuff. I’d be perfectly happy wearing my leather pants all the time, but that’s not our life anymore, and as much as I hate to admit it, I know I’m going to have to play my part now. Being an Ambassador, isn’t something I’d ever wished for myself, but I need to do it for our son. I want him to have what rightfully belongs to him.”

“I know, Gorgeous. I do too. For what it’s worth, you were magnificent in Russia. I know you worry, and I know you abhor the spotlight, but for better or worse...this is who we have to be when the world is watching.”

“And when it’s not?”

“We can just be here for each other.”

“I do have one request?”

“Anything, you know that.”

“I know there’s going to be times when I can’t go out there and fight the good fight by your side, but just promise me you’ll always come home safely to me...to us.”

“That I’ll always do, Gorgeous. You have my solemn word.” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I know you will.”


	97. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart and Rona begin the healing process and make plans for their future.

The weather was bright and sunny for early November, and Rona sighed happily feeling the breeze whispering through her hair as she stood staring out at the Pacific Ocean. 

Living in Southern California for several years, and spending time at the beaches there had been enjoyable, but here in Northern California, the terrain was much more rugged and majestic. The beaches were lined with rocky cliffs in some places, and in others, you could park your car and walk through the large sand dunes until you reached the waters edge. 

According to the locals here in Bodega Bay, the best time of year to spend at the coast was from November to February. There was little to no wind in the mornings, and the days were often crisp and clear, the fog rolling in with the wind sometime around three in the afternoon and in some cases, the weather was warmer on the coast than inland. 

_The air was so fresh and alive here..._

She inhaled deeply and felt her husband’s strong arms move around her waist, his body settling behind hers, his gaze also locked onto the endless horizon of crystal blue water. 

“It’s really quite something, isn’t it?” He asked, his voice rich and deep, and she nodded. 

“It _really_ is.”

“According to the GPS, this is Bodega Head. There’s a beach just south of here, it’s part of a State Park, called Doran Beach, and just north is Salmon Creek. Apparently, there’s quite a few spectacular beaches along the coastline in both directions.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Further south along Highway 1, it will take us along Tomales Bay until we get to the town of Point Reyes and Limantour beach is out a bit further in a little town called Inverness. There’s a lighthouse somewhere down there. If we continue on, there’s another small town called Olema, then Bolinas. Apparently, it’s a little surf haven that the locals know about. Eventually the highway ends at Stinson’s Beach, and then road goes inland through either Muir Woods or Mill Valley, until you get to Sausalito.”

“And north?”

“More small beaches, until we reach Jenner. The coastal road north is quite the drive, but it would take several hours to traverse. According to our host, there’s not too many inland roads that head back east until you get past Point Arena, just south of Mendocino.”

“I’ve heard of Mendocino.”

“I think it was a small artist commune at one time, but I might be wrong.”

“And the Redwoods?”

“That’s about a two to three hours drive north of here. Avenue of the Giants, up Highway 101.”

Rona sighed, her gaze still fixated out on the water of the Pacific, the sun glistening off the waves that were crashing onto the rocks below. 

“What are you thinking, little girl.”

“That I _really_ like it here.”

She could feel her husband smirking against her neck.

“We’ve only been here for two days, Rona.”

“And?” She turned around and lifted her eyes to meet the stormy grey ones of her husband, his expression filled with amusement. “Haven’t you ever _been_ somewhere and just felt an affinity for it?”

“Yes. I felt that way the first time I went to my island.”

Rona nodded, averting her eyes as she could well imagine Bart feeling such a connection to that place. She didn’t hate it, but the memories evoked there were obviously bittersweet for her. 

She felt her husband cupping her face, so their eyes could meet again, and it wasn’t too difficult to see the remorse and sadness reflected there. 

“How about a compromise?”

“Which is?”

“Let’s take this week and visit as many coastal towns as we can. At the end, _you_ decide which one you like the best, and we can find a home to buy. Someplace that we choose together. Not mine, nor yours...but _ours_...”

“ _Really?”_

“Of course, my sweet girl,” He was quick to reassure his wife, “I quite like it here too, and I think it might be nice for us to find a place that we can escape to. New York is rather busy, and as much as I hate to admit it, my hotel is probably not the best place to think about raising a family.”

She nodded slowly before she asked... “Did you raise Chuck there?”

“I did, to an extent. The home I’d had with Evelyn, belonged to her family. When she died, I tried to stay there, but it was too difficult. I bought the hotel when Chuck started primary school, because it was closer to his school. The staff at the hotel adored him, and they spoiled him rotten too. As he got older, it just seemed easier to stay.”

“And you wouldn’t want to live there full time?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted quietly. “Do you like New York?”

“I can take it or leave it. The only reason I chose to go there to do my Slaying, was because I felt in some kind of fucked up way...” her voice fell away, and Bart smiled. 

“That you were protecting me?”

She nodded, and he just shook his head at how wonderful his wife truly was. 

“Rona, I want whatever _you_ want. While I can do business from anywhere, it’s far easier in New York. Chuck is ready to take over, a fact that was made quite clear to me when he helped you take out Payne Global.” 

“He’s _quite_ clever.” She smirked. “A chip off the _old block.”_

“Hey, now!” Her husband grinned. “I’m not _that_ old.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Are you planning on taking over Payne Global?”

“Actually, I was thinking about merging it with Wayne Enterprises.”

“ _ **Excuse me?”**_ He stared down at his wife, with an incredulous expression on his chiseled face. 

“Yep. Apparently, your ex was quite the eco warrior, and had made some smart moves into green technology platforms. From what Faith has shared, Bruce is going to be cornering the market on that tech within the next five years. I’d like a piece of that, and since he’s not likely to merge with _you_...”

Bart chuckled and shook his head in wonder. 

“You’re so unexpected, my _perfect_ girl.”

“And?”

“And I _adore_ you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, now perhaps we can decide where to have lunch today?”

“There’s a restaurant on the water that we passed on our way out here. Lucas Wharf?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The drive was about five minutes to their destination, featuring a quaint restaurant right on Bodega Bay harbor. They’d managed to procure a table in the far right corner of the main dining floor, where they could overlook the bay and watch the seagulls and sea otters playing in the water. 

Lunch consisted of clam chowder, local French bread and a shared Dungeness Crab Louis salad. 

A few of the patrons looked their way in recognition, but for the most part, they were left alone. 

No one here seemed to care too much for celebrity here. 

Their drive up north was quite pleasant. They stopped at Shell Beach and Goat Rock, before passing through Jenner on their way towards Mendocino. They bypassed several small towns, and large farms until they reached Sea Ranch. 

They parked on the side of the road and took pictures, as well as noticing the local postal office right next door to a restaurant and a singular real estate office. Rona went inside and grabbed a few flyers denoting some of the local homes for sale in the immediate area, and then they continued on their way north. 

Gualala was the next town, and they eventually passed Manchester Beach until they arrived at Point Arena. 

They were able to take a quick tour of the lighthouse there, and then headed on to Mendocino.

They arrived around dinner time, and Bart had luckily managed to obtain a last minute reservation at the noted Cafe Beaujolais, on Ukiah Street. 

After dinner, they perused though the town before driving back to their hotel—which took several hours, and they didn’t arrive back in Forestville, until well after midnight...but it had been well worth it. 

The following day was spent driving up to the Redwoods, and having lunch at a taco truck on the northern outskirts of the town of Willits. 

The Avenue of the Giants were utterly spectacular, and they’d even taken the time to drive through an actual redwood tree, and then stopped to walk along the Eel River for about an hour...but when they were heading back to their bed and breakfast, Rona noticed a strange gift shop on the side of the road, and demanded they stop. 

The wood carvings alongside the road were unique, but it was all very tongue in cheek as some of the items were crafted after the likeness of Big Foot, and this had made them both laugh. Rona had bought a few items, small knick knacks, and one T-shirt that sported an image of Big Foot, claiming him as the _Worlds Greatest Hide and Seek Champion._

Her husband had lost it when she’d shown it to him, proclaiming she was buying it. 

When he’d asked her if she was actually going to wear the thing, she’d snickered, but nodded enthusiastically and then proceeded to do so in bed that night, which had set off another round of laughter from them both. 

It made her feel good that they had managed to find a way to laugh again. 

The next day, they made their way south towards Stinson Beach. Their favored spot however, was easily the town of Bolinas, where they’d had lunch at a small outdoor Mexican restaurant, and walked along the beach afterwards. 

For their final day, they’d made their way back into Bodega Bay, walking along Doran Beach, stopping by the local saltwater taffy shoppe, a cute pink and white building on the south side of the highway, and it was at that moment as she was getting back into their car, that she felt keenly that this was the place for them to find a home.

Thankfully, her husband had readily agreed with her. 

So, that’s how they found themselves touring a few of the local homes for sale later that same afternoon, but unfortunately none of them felt exactly right. 

Their realtor, Casey Maddison, made the suggestion that perhaps they should concsider buying a lot and having a suitable home built, and the idea had instantly intrigued Rona...

..then it was solidified, when Casey took them to a prime lot that had just come up for sale, right on the southern part of Doran beach, overlooking the ocean and it had private beach access, near the south side of the golf course. 

It was amazing, just under a half acre, and already zoned for residential access. 

The price wasn’t too steep, at a bit over a million dollars. 

As she and Bart stood on the land, looking out over the horizon, she felt his lips connect with her temple, and he whispered softly, “So?”

Bright amber eyes lifted, and she didn’t even need to say the actual words...

Her excitement was clearly written all over her face. 

He immediately turned to the realtor and nodded. “We’ll take it.”

“Excellent. Let’s go back to my office and write up the contract. If you would like, Mr. and Mrs. Bass, I can give you the names of some top notch contractors?”

“That would be fine.” Bart drawled agreeably, and led his wife back towards their car. 

Rona’s gaze turned back for a split second as they drove away, and she smiled. 

She could almost picture what their future home might look like, and for the first time since she’d lost their baby, she felt a sense of hope and excitement, and what their future might entail. 

It didn’t take long for the papers to be signed and the funds transferred. Escrow would close within twenty days, and Bart silently promised himself that by this time next year, their new home would be built and move in ready. He could see by the gleam in his wife’s eyes, that she was truly happy with the idea, and he could admit that he was too. As much as he loved New York, it had sucked the life out of him for the last ten years. He’d lived a half life, building his business into a global conglomerate second to none, raised a son to be proud of, and had been utterly lonely as a consequence. 

_But no more..._

He wasn’t going to allow his marriage to suffer due to his penchant to run roughshod over the business world. He had a capable son who could and would, put his own business efforts to shame. Perhaps once Chuck was done with his MBA, it would be time for him to retire. Rona would likely want to try again for a baby soon, and he knew that whatever she wanted, he’d give it to her...

... _no questions asked._

Once they were back in their room, Rona sat up and considered him for a few moments before she asked seriously, “How many children, Bart?”

He didn’t even pretend to misunderstand her, when he replied, “Whatever you want, little girl. I’m all in.”

“So one year?”

“If you want. But I’ve been thinking about it quite a bit this past week and maybe we should just let nature take its course? The Powers will make it happen when the timing is right. I’d like to think we could get this house built within a year’s time. Money talks, and I have no doubt it shouldn’t be too difficult to make it happen.”

“Would you want to make this our primary residence?”

“I’m not opposed to it, and perhaps eventually we can. But little girl, we have the resources to come and go as we please. There are some good private schools in New York, but I’d imagine there are some acceptable one’s here too. I think we’ll know where we’re supposed to be when the time comes.”

Rona straddled her husband and stared down at him in wonder. 

“Are you feeling alright, rich man? It’s not like you to not have a firm plan in place for every contingency?”

“And look where that got me?” He questioned softly, and she could see the regret in his eyes, “I’m going to try and be more open to just letting things happen. I’ve spent a lot of time really pondering why we lost out child...”

“Bart...”

“No, Rona...I need to say this and you need to hear it.”

“Okay.”

He swallowed heavily, and tried to formulate just how he wanted to get this out, because for the last two weeks, when he wallowed in his own pool of self recriminations, there was a part of him that wanted to rant and rave at the unfairness of it all, but in the end, he wasn’t an idiot...he knew the message the Powers had forced him to acknowledge.

“I’m a stubborn man,” he began, and watched his wife’s mouth lift in amusement, “and too used to bending the world to my whims. But for all my power and penchant for control, there’s only been one thing I’ve never been able to manipulate to my liking, and that has been this...” he placed his hand over his heart and wasn’t surprised when Rona’s face scrunched in confusion. “The night I caught Diana cheating on me, something broke inside of me. Before that moment, I was a cocky soul without a care in the world. I had money, good looks and a beautiful girlfriend. I was the envy of all my friends and the world was my proverbial oyster...but it was all based on an illusion. It came crashing down on me that night, and in the days that followed everything I had believed to be the truth of my life, was outed as a fallacy of my own design. My family business was near ruin, the woman I’d loved, didn’t love me back and all my choices in that moment were stripped from me—and then there was Evelyn. Sweet, caring and _loyal_ Evelyn, who loved me and gave me a son at the ultimate cost to herself.”

Rona ran her hands over her husband’s chest, and in that moment, she could _feel_ his emotions spike and her eyes widened in shock, noting this subtle change in their dynamic. 

And it took her by surprise, even if she was secretly grateful for the fact. 

“After Evelyn miscarried the second time, we had the first real disagreement of our marriage. I was _adamant_ we not try again, but she was just as stubborn. For nearly a year, we went around and around over it, and in the end she won, not with emotion, but with logic.”

“And what did she say?”

“That she’d always known her time on this earth was _limited_ and it would end sooner than she’d hoped for, but that I was being _selfish_ in not allowing her to experience everything life had to offer, and if that meant sacrificing her own life, to bring another into this world, _that it was her choice and I was a selfish bastard for not allowing her to make that choice.”_

Rona nodded, wiping a solitary tear from her husband’s cheek, that had escaped from its confines. Bart’s eyes were glassy, but to his credit he was stoically trying to get through what he wanted to say without losing complete control. 

“She was _right_ , and I finally capitulated. Chuck was born a year later, and she died, never even getting to hold our son.”

He awkwardly cleared his throat a few times, and averted his gaze to stare out the open window. There were several moments of pained silence before he spoke again, and when he did the words came out disjointed and emotive. 

“I never told Evelyn how I felt when she was alive, but as the nurses took Chuck away to check him over, I finally managed to say the words I’d wished I’d said when it mattered most. Then they brought Chuck back to me, and the overwhelming responsibility I felt in that moment, was scary as all fuck.”

Rona giggled softly and nodded, wiping her own stray tears as she smiled tremulously at her husband. 

“I can just imagine how you must’ve felt.” She said quietly, and he nodded. 

“I had no one to help me, and it took me _months_ trying to find the perfect nanny. I was having no success at all, and it was finally _your Mother_ who managed to find someone for me. She had hired a wonderful woman for you, and when Robert told her what a struggle I was having, she sent your nanny to me.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes!” He grinned. “I was ever so grateful, and Robert of course, had thought it rather funny. Apparently, I was quite the mess back then.”

Rona shook her head, not able to imagine her husband as anything other than the completely put together man he was.

“What happened then?”

“I would come and visit Chicago and I’d bring Chuck, and you would hold him in your arms...”

“I don’t remember that!”

“You were four years old, Rona.” He chuckled. “I’m surprised that you never found any pictures though. I think I might even have some back in New York.”

“Huh!” She shook her head again. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“My perfect girl, I don’t look back on that time very often and talk about it even less. But after you lost our baby, I’d realized that I didn’t want history repeating itself. I can’t lose you and I can’t lose another child. I think a part of me was terrified that if you did get pregnant, what that would mean for your calling? I’ve been around Wayne and Faith enough these past few months to know that she’s not actively Slaying...”

“She’s not.”

“And?”

“Husband, it’s not even up for discussion. There’s no way I would ever put our child in harms way.”

She felt and saw his body deflate in relief, and it was in that moment, she finally understood why he’d been so reluctant to definitively commit to having more children...

Did he really think she would go out Slaying whilst pregnant?

Perhaps she hadn’t been the most responsible person, when she’d gone off to Martinique on her own, and belatedly she could admit now, that the loss of their child was just as much her fault, if not more so. 

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

“For what?”

“For leaving that day? For going off to Martinique after picking that fight with you. I was scared too, Bart. So scared that I wasn’t ready to be a mom, and that I wouldn’t know how to be a good one.”

He sat up and cupped her cheeks in his hands, as if she was the most precious thing in the world.

“You _listen_ to me, Mrs. Bass! Right here and right now! You’re going to be the _most amazing mother_ when the time comes! Our child will be so loved and taken care of.”

“How can you say that?” She whispered in agony. “I didn’t take care of our child, and we lost it.”

He shrugged helplessly, his thumbs tenderly caressing his wife’s cheeks where a few teardrops had fallen. 

“It _just_ wasn’t meant to be.” His reply was barely audible, and his voice cracked with emotion...

And suddenly, Rona lost it as she started crying in earnest, and Bart wrapped his arms around his sweet wife, and held her to him as he too, shed his own tears over the loss of their child. 

“I’m _sorry_ , too.” He whispered into her ear. “But I have to believe that it happened for a reason, my love. To show us both, but me especially, what _truly_ matters.”

“And that is?”

“You and me. _Our family_. What we can have together. It’s always going to be you, my perfect girl. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll still be chasing you down! I love you so much! More than I ever believed myself capable of.”

“I love you, too.” She choked out breathlessly. 

Bart moved back slightly, his stormy grey eyes taking in the beautiful amber of his wife, and without second guessing himself, he leant forward and slanted his mouth over hers. 

The kiss was meant to be chaste, but it quickly evolved until Rona was underneath him, her eyes now blown with lust—and she nodded once...

...and that was all the permission he needed. 


End file.
